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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30109680">Where Life Begins and Love Never Ends</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/KitKatWinchester/pseuds/KitKatWinchester'>KitKatWinchester</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Iron Man (Movies), MCU, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Meeting, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, But It Goes About How You'd Expect, Canon Divergence - Captain America: Civil War (Movie), F/M, Fatherly Love, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Kidnapping, Let's Just Say Things are a Little More Complicated, M/M, Original MCU Characters - Freeform, POV Original Character, POV Peter Parker, POV Tony Stark, Peter Parker is a Good Bro, Protective May Parker (Spider-Man), Rated teen for swearing, Terminal Illness, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony and Peter Meet a Little Differently, family love, with a bit of a twist</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-05-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 00:15:08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>21,708</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30109680</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/KitKatWinchester/pseuds/KitKatWinchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When Tony Stark receives a letter from a scientist from his past asking for help in saving his daughter’s life, he’s intrigued, to say the least. His intrigue only grows upon realizing that said scientist is asking Tony to bring him a young teen named Peter Parker. What the man wants with a teenager, Tony has no idea, but out of some sentimental feeling, he agrees to help him. But upon meeting this Peter Parker, Tony’s sentiments change as he develops an odd attachment to the kid--an attachment that quickly turns into a feeling that Tony never would’ve expected. As their relationship grows, Tony has to decide where his morals really lie.  </p><p>Inspired by "The Mandalorian"</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>May Parker &amp; Original Character(s), May Parker &amp; Peter Parker, Ned Leeds &amp; Peter Parker, Ned Leeds/Peter Parker (Minor), Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Peter Parker &amp; Original Character(s), Peter Parker &amp; Tony Stark, Tony Stark &amp; Original Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Irondad Big Bang 2021, Irondad Creators Awards 2021 - Nominations</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">


        <li>
            Inspired by

            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/782550">Art Work</a> by Shoyzz-Art.
        </li>

    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>HELLO everyone, and Happy St. Patrick's Day!! </p><p>This is my entry for the Irondad Big Bang 2021, and I am SO excited for it! This is one of the most complex stories I've ever written--definitely bigger than last year's story--and it has a LOT of moving parts, so I hope you enjoy this wild ride I'm about to take you on! </p><p>I'd like to start by giving a huge shout-out to the mod, Robin, for hosting this event as expertly as they did! Thank you for making this fun and being so supportive throughout the entire process! </p><p>I also want to give an even BIGGER shout-out to my incredible artist partner, @shoyzz-art for the pieces they did! Thank you for partnering up with me for this event!! Your art is INCREDIBLE, and I can't wait for everyone to see it! You all can find @shoyzz-art on Tumblr <a href="https://shoyzz-art.tumblr.com/">here.</a></p><p>Last, but certainly not least, the biggest shout-out of ALL (and a VERY HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!) to my best friend, Grace, for ALL of her help with this story. Between listening to my babble, editing chapter by chapter, inspiring my ideas, and just being the incredible support system that you are, this story simply wouldn't exist without you. THANK YOU for being your amazing, helpful, incredible self, and I hope these first couple chapters are a good birthday gift for you. :) &lt;3 </p><p>With all of that out of the way, let's dive in! </p><p>Please enjoy: "Where Life Begins, and Love Never Ends".</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <span class="u">Prologue</span>
  </strong>
</p><p>He has no idea what went wrong. </p><p>He’d done everything right. He’d tested it all five times over and then another three times, just to be sure. </p><p>How could he have hurt her? </p><p>Unlocking the door to the warehouse, he makes his way inside, his feet dragging as he traverses towards his makeshift lab, flicking on the overheads and bathing the room in light. He shields his eyes, exhaustion and emotion making him even more sensitive than usual. As he finally nears his desk, tools and containers still scattered across it, a newfound anger overtakes him. </p><p>He’s a <em> scientist. </em> He has more experience than half of the scientists he’s met, and yet, he’d almost gotten his daughter killed. </p><p>He’s lucky she’s still alive. </p><p>How could he have messed this up? </p><p>Angrily, he grasps the nearest tool and chucks it at the wall. The resounding <em> clank </em>does little to satisfy him, and he grabs another, and another, chucking tool after tool, vial after vial, tray after tray, against the wall, creating a cacophony of bangs, clashes, and thunks in the process. It isn’t until he picks up a small vial that he hesitates, realizing the shape is unfamiliar to him. He brings it closer, studying it, turning it over in his hand. </p><p>And that’s when he sees it. </p><p>A name, written ever-so-carefully on a faded piece of tape, stuck to the bottom of the vial. </p><p>
  <em> Peter Parker </em>
</p><p>And then he remembers. </p><p>It was <em> him.  </em></p><p><em> This kid </em>was the one who caused his daughter’s current state. </p><p>He himself hadn’t made any errors. How could he have? </p><p>He’d calculated for everything...except this vial. </p><p><em> Peter Parker </em>is the reason his daughter might never wake up. </p><p>And he’s going to make him pay for that. </p><p>“This is your doing, Peter Parker,” he whispers to the open air. “And I’ll make sure you fix it, if it’s the last thing I do.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Don't worry...I won't leave you at that. ;) </p><p>The <em>official<em> Chapter 1 is coming momentarily! After that, I'll be updating weekly, posting a new chapter every Wednesday! </em></em></p><p>
  <em>
    <em>Thank you so much to all of you who are diving into this story! I hope you like it!</em>
  </em>
</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> August 1995 </em>
</p><p>Richard Walker grips his wife’s hand tightly as she leans her head back on the exam table, her free hand absentmindedly rubbing her still-surprisingly-small stomach. </p><p>“I’m sure it’s nothing, honey,” Richard reassures, giving her a soft smile. “You said yourself that your friend had plenty of stomach pains during her own pregnancy. I’m sure our little girl’s just stretching herself out.”</p><p>“I know,” Sarah responds, though she doesn’t return the smile, her worry overshadowing her husband’s attempts to comfort her. “I guess there’s just something about this that feels...different. It feels wrong.” </p><p>Richard tenses a little bit, having difficulty keeping his own concerns at bay. </p><p>“And that’s why we’re here,” he continues, squeezing her hand a little tighter. “If something’s wrong, the doctor will tell us, and they’ll find a way to fix it.” Sarah can sense her husband’s unease, but she doesn’t call him out on it, instead nodding slightly before turning her head to stare at the ceiling again. </p><p>They sit in silence for a few minutes, but just as Richard is about to say something else, there’s a small knock on the door.</p><p>“Come in,” the two say at the same time, and for the first time that day, they both smile, giving each other small glances of adoration as the door opens and the doctor walks in. However, their smiles dissipate quickly at seeing the look on Dr. Evans’ face, and Sarah slowly sits up, repositioning herself on the bed to face the doctor. Once she’s settled, Dr. Evans looks back and forth between the two of them, hesitating slightly before pulling a chair closer to the exam bed and sitting in front of them. </p><p>“We performed several tests, and initially, I assumed all would be normal, given that stomach pains are generally not a concern in pregnancy. But unfortunately, I’ve come to a different conclusion.” She stares at the couple, waiting for some sort of response, but when all she sees is their expectant faces, she sighs again before continuing. </p><p>“It seems that Sarah carries a recessive gene for a rare degenerative disease known as hyperleukocyte cellulysis...a disease that has, unfortunately, been passed to your daughter.” Sarah’s eyes immediately begin to well with tears, but Richard quickly squeezes her hand three times, doing his best to hold out hope, for his wife and future daughter both.</p><p>“You can treat it, right?” he asks, leaning forward, in the process revealing just a little bit of his own apprehension. “You said rare, but you didn’t say untreatable.” </p><p>“That is correct,” Dr. Evans says, hesitantly, knowing her tone is betraying the unfortunate truth about the illness. “The disease causes a breakdown of the pathways that allow calcium, lipids, and other nutrients to enter the body’s cells, but, as such, with weekly doses of the necessary nutrients, your daughter would potentially be able to survive.” Richard wants to keep the hope going, and he does, with every fiber of his being, but even he can hear the admission in the doctor’s tone, especially with the word ‘potentially’. “However, even with these treatments, the disease itself is...incurable. Your daughter more than likely would not survive past the age of four.” </p><p>For all the strength she had been trying to put forth, it’s that outright confession that finally causes Sarah to choke on a sob, tears slowly streaming down her face as she covers her mouth with her hand. Richard, on the other hand, can only sit there, frozen and staring at the doctor, hand still clasped tightly around his wife’s. As Sarah curls in on herself ever so slightly, however, he reaches for her, instinctively turning to face her as she turns her head into his shoulder. Dr. Evans’ frown deepens as she watches the couple try to cope with the news. Eventually, she stands, letting them know she’ll give them a minute before quietly stepping out of the room and shutting the door. </p><p>The silence in the room is deafening as Richard stares after her, the only sounds his wife’s small sobs and the buzzing of the fluorescents above them. When Sarah’s sobs quiet slightly, turning into sniffles, Richard is finally pulled out of his own shock. He gently places a free hand on his wife’s shoulder, causing her to sit up a little to look at him. </p><p>“Hey,” he attempts, giving her a smile. “We never know, right? They said it’s treatable, and who knows? Maybe they’re closer to finding a cure than we realize.” </p><p>“But what if they’re not?” Sarah interrupts.  “What if she really only makes it that long? What then? Would we just be making her life worse?” Richard considers that for a minute, eventually sighing a little before suggesting something neither of them want to hear.</p><p>“If you really feel that way, then maybe it’s best if we--” </p><p>“No,” Sarah says, cutting him off before he can finish the thought, a strong resolve in her tone that throws her husband off. “No,” she repeats more slowly, collecting herself with a few deep breaths before continuing. “That’s not what I want. I want to have this baby.” She looks down at her stomach, putting a hand over it as her lips finally turn up in a smile. “She deserves a chance at life. Even if there’s a possibility of losing her, we shouldn’t give up on her.” </p><p>Richard’s smile returns as he looks at his wife, then down to the hand on her stomach. He places his own hand on top of hers, and as she looks up, so does he, and they lock eyes, smiling at each other.</p><p>“We won’t” he reaffirms, hands clasping over their unborn daughter. </p><p>~ </p><p>Richard and Sarah spend the next few months preparing for their daughter’s arrival, determined to make everything about her early years as perfect as possible. Finally standing in the doorway of the freshly finished nursery, they both sigh in unison. Despite the news they had received several months earlier, they finally feel prepared to take on this new chapter in their lives. </p><p>To Richard’s dismay, their happiness and hope doesn’t last long. </p><p>Three weeks before the due date, he wakes up to Sarah shaking him violently. Confused, he looks over at the clock. <em> 5:43am.  </em></p><p>“Thirty-seven weeks,” Sarah whispers, her tone frantic. Richard stares at her, still hazy from being woken up.</p><p>“What?” he asks, thrown off.</p><p>“Thirty-seven weeks,” she repeats, louder this time. “It’s too early. Something isn’t right.” She makes a noise of pain, and that wakes him up completely. As he sits up in bed, it’s then that he notices the bright red liquid all over the bed, and his eyes widen. </p><p>“We--” Sarah starts to say, but she’s cut off as another twinge of pain hits her. She grabs her husband’s arm, gripping tightly. “We need to go to the hospital.” </p><p>Richard doesn’t waste a second, jumping up and gingerly helping his wife fully out of bed and downstairs as quickly, but as carefully, as possible. He breaks every law he can get away with in their rush to the hospital, a twinge of guilt making him wonder if he should’ve called an ambulance instead. When they finally arrive, he has a hard time remembering to take things slow, adrenaline and panic coursing through him as they make their way through the doors.</p><p>The second the people at the desk see his wife’s state, they jump into action, bringing out a stretcher and helping her onto it. Sarah keeps grabbing her stomach, gritting her teeth and trying to keep her cries of pain in, but to little avail, and Richard squeezes her shoulder sympathetically. Once she’s situated, the group travels through several sets of double doors before making it to a large hospital room. Before Richard can follow her all the way in, though, a man in a gown steps in front of him, blocking his path. </p><p>“Sir I’m gonna have to ask you to wait here,” he says, and Richard frowns, worry and concern overtaking him. </p><p>“That’s my wife,” Richard argues, trying to look past the man to see through the doors. “I need to make sure she’s okay.” </p><p>“I understand that,” the nurse responds, trying to convey his own sympathy for the man. “But we have to make sure she’s stable. You need to wait out here for now.” Richard stares at the nurse, wanting to argue, but when he sees the expression on his face, he nods begrudgingly, stepping out of the room and staring through the window, locking eyes with Sarah, who’s trying to mask the fear in her expression, but Richard can see right through it. Despite that, she nods, understanding, before both of their views are blocked by several nurses and doctors at her bedside. Richard continues straining to see her, but after a while, he gives up, electing to pace the room instead until he gets further news. </p><p>After close to an hour--which, to Richard, feels like days--a few of the nurses finally disperse, and a different nurse steps out of the room and towards Richard. He walks to meet her quickly, glancing over her shoulder in the process to try to see his wife, but he still can’t see past the people by the bed. </p><p>“How is she?” he asks before the nurse can even speak.</p><p>“She’s better,” the nurse responds, but, despite her trying to hide it, there’s a hesitation in her tone that confirms his fears. “However, we’re going to need to perform an emergency C-section.” Richard stares at him in surprise.</p><p>“Emergency C-section?” he repeats, incredulous. “She’s not due for another three weeks.” </p><p>“I know,” the nurse says quickly, anticipating the question. “But it seems the bleeding was caused by a partial placental abruption. In order to save your daughter’s life, we need to get her out now.” Richard is having a hard time processing the words, but he pushes on, needing more information on his wife.</p><p>“And Sarah?” he questions, straining again to try to see her--still to no avail.</p><p>“If all goes well, she should be just fine. Your daughter will likely need to be cared for for the next several days, but once she’s healthy, you two can take her home. But we need to act quickly.” Richard looks back at the nurse, searching for any concern that might be hidden behind her mask, but he can’t find any. When the nurse smiles at him reassuringly, he relaxes, nodding in understanding.</p><p>“Unfortunately, due to the nature of the operation, we can’t have you in the room during surgery, so if you want to see her, now would be a good time.” The nurse steps aside, giving Richard a path to the room, and he doesn’t hesitate, pushing through the doors and past the few doctors still in the room to stand next to his wife.</p><p>“Richard,” she breathes out the second she sees him. She’s in less pain than before, but her earlier concerns haven’t been alleviated, and Richard can see the fear all over her face.</p><p>“Hey,” he says, smiling at her, pushing some stray hairs out of her strained, yet ever beautiful, face before grabbing her hand. “I know this isn’t easy, but they’re gonna take care of you, and our daughter. And when you come back, we’ll all get through it together, okay?” She stares at him, swallowing hard and trying to hold back her tremors, but Richard can feel how much her hand is shaking even as he grips it tighter. </p><p>“You can do this. And I’ll be right here, waiting.” He leans forward, gently placing a kiss to her forehead, and when he does, she relaxes under his touch, taking a few deep breaths. As he pulls away, she nods at him, smiling lightly before squeezing his hand three times--their secret little ‘I love you’. He squeezes back, returning the smile as the doctors awkwardly move around him to take her to the operating room. Sarah’s breaths start to quicken, but she tries to keep her cool, rubbing that hand over her stomach again, in an almost comforting gesture. Noticing this, Richard brings her other hand closer and kisses it gently, squeezing it one last time before letting go as they slowly start to wheel her away. They keep their gazes on each other for as long as they can, only breaking eye contact when the doors finally close behind her.  </p><p>Richard stares at the door she disappeared behind, anxiety and fear building in him knowing he can’t be there with her. Eventually, he turns away, mentally convincing himself to find a chair and sit down.</p><p><em> She’ll be fine, </em> he tells himself, chanting it like a mantra in his head, desperately trying to push away his anxiety. <em> They’ll both be fine.  </em></p><p>
  <em> They have to be.  </em>
</p><p>~ </p><p>He can feel it the second it happens. </p><p>His stomach sinks, and his heart pounds with an uneasy feeling.</p><p>He knows before the doctor even comes through the door, a forlorn look on her face as she scans the room before finally spotting him, sitting awkwardly in the chair. </p><p>Even as he sees her making her way towards him, all he can do is sit there and stare at her, not wanting to hear the inevitable news. </p><p>“Mr. Walker?” she questions, though she realizes too late that he’s the only one in the room. However, Richard simply nods in response, wanting her to get to the point. </p><p>“My name’s Melissa West. I was one of your wife’s surgeons,” she begins, sensing Richard’s attitude and jumping into it. “The surgery was successful. Your daughter was delivered at 7:52 this morning.” She hesitates briefly, which is all Richard needs to confirm his suspicions before she continues. “However, it took a toll on your wife, and not long after giving birth, she...passed away, due to the stress on her heart.” Richard tenses, and even though he had been expecting it, his heart twinges, and his jaw clenches, everything in his body tightening up with grief. “I am...truly sorry,” the nurse attempts, but she knows there’s nothing she can say to make the situation better. Awkwardly, she stands over him, waiting for some sort of response, and while Richard knows what she’s waiting for, it takes him several minutes to acknowledge her. </p><p>He stares out at the door his wife had disappeared through many hours before, wanting to take it all back. A part of him wishes that, all those months ago, when the doctor had told them about their daughter’s condition, that they had chosen the other path--put it all behind them and tried again.</p><p>But they were both too stubborn. They always have been. While for most relationships, that tended to be a problem, for the two of them, it just made their love stronger. </p><p>And now she’s gone. </p><p>
  <em> She wasn’t stubborn enough for that.  </em>
</p><p>The thought makes him want to cry, but somehow, the tears don’t come.</p><p>Finally, after several minutes of silence between them, Richard manages to turn his head to look at Dr. West, a question on his lips. </p><p>“How is my daughter?” The doctor smiles slightly, relieved to be able to present some good news? </p><p>“She’s stable,” Dr. West replies, this time with much more hope in her voice. “She’s currently connected to a ventilator--merely a precaution due to her underlying condition. However, she seems to be quite healthy given the circumstances.” Her smile grows, attempting to give Richard some reassurance. “She’s going to be just fine.” </p><p>Richard nods, his own lips curling up in a pained smile. </p><p><em> We knew this was a possibility, </em>he thinks, hoping to reassure himself, but it doesn’t make him hurt any less. </p><p>He looks back at the doors again, staring at them. She’d be happy to know that their daughter made it, even if it meant sacrificing her own life. She’d trust him to look after her, no matter what happened. </p><p>He’s going to do just that, for her. </p><p>“Can I see her?” he asks, turning back to Dr. West. The doctor nods, grateful to have something easier and more tangible to discuss. She gestures for him to follow her, and the two of them make their way through a different set of doors, traveling down a hallway, then a set of stairs, and eventually, into the NICU.</p><p>Richard knows which one is theirs right away.</p><p>She’s set up close to the door, oddly peaceful despite the conditions, curled up with her eyes closed. Even in her little bassinet, Richard can tell that she looks just like Sarah, and he feels that pang in his heart again.</p><p>“She’s beautiful,” he whispers out, and while the doctor is a little surprised by the response, she nods in support.</p><p>“Did you have a name in mind?” she asks, and Richard glances at her briefly in acknowledgement before turning back to his daughter.</p><p>He does. Of course he does. They’d talked about it a thousand times, arguing over various names, but with Sarah gone...none of the ones he had picked matter. </p><p>Not anymore.</p><p>“Brianna,” he whispers, thinking back to the very top of her long list. “That was the name that she...” he trails off, not able to complete the sentence, clearing his throat and taking a deep breath before continuing. “Brianna Sarah Walker.” The second he says her full name, he swears that his daughter stirs, just a little bit, and it actually brings a smile to his face. </p><p><em> I’ll give her a life, </em> he thinks to himself. <em> Whatever it takes.  </em></p><p>
  <em> I won’t let you down, Sarah.  </em>
</p><p>~ </p><p>It’s been two years since he lost the most important person in his life. While he’s been lucky to have those years filled with the contagious laughter and joy of his little girl, the days don’t feel right knowing that Sarah isn’t there with them. As Brianna continues to  grow, each new memory brings them closer and closer to the day that he’s feared since she took her first breath, and it pains him to think of going through it alone. </p><p>So for two years, Richard’s been doing everything he can to find a cure. </p><p>He’s synthesized formula after formula, talked to scientist after scientist, but no one has given him the time of day. </p><p>They humoured him at first, but after a while, everyone told him that there was nothing they could do. </p><p>But he’s still convinced that there has to be something. </p><p>He can’t just drop it. </p><p>Not when this is his daughter they’re talking about. </p><p>He pours through his notes again, trying to make sense of his various doodles, scribbles, and chemical formulas. Just as he’s about to add another layer to his model, the door opens behind him, and he drops the piece he’s holding in surprise. </p><p>“Amber! What have I said about kn--” He cuts himself off as he spins around, only to find his daughter, not his best friend, standing at the door, staring at him in surprise. </p><p>“Sorry Dada,” she mumbles, frowning at him.</p><p>“No no, it’s okay sweetheart,” he reassures, putting the piece back on his table and crouching down to her level. “I just thought you were your auntie. What’s wrong?”</p><p>“Wanna play?” she asks immediately, her smile returning hopefully.  </p><p>“Um,” Richard mumbles, looking back at his work table. “Daddy’s working right now,” he starts, turning back to face her. “But maybe later?” </p><p>Brianna frowns at him, head tilted a little in confusion. <em> Daddy’s always working, </em>she thinks. </p><p>“I’ll play with you, honey,” Amber says from the hallway, making her way towards the both of them. “But you have to drink the milk I just put out for you first, okay?” </p><p>“Okay!” Brianna shouts excitedly, jumping up a little, and Amber and Richard both cringe, reminding her to settle down, but she barely hears them as she races back down the hallway. </p><p>“She can’t do that,” Richard says, momentary panic in his voice. “She needs to remember to take things slow.”</p><p>“She’s a kid, Richard,” Amber reminds him, leaning against the doorframe and crossing her arms. “It’s what they do.” </p><p>“Yeah, but she’s not a <em> normal </em>kid,” Richard emphasizes, gesturing to his work table.</p><p>“Don’t you think she’s heard that enough?” Amber responds, putting a scolding in her tone. Richard stares at her, frowning and narrowing his eyes. </p><p>“Okay, what?” he finally asks, not sure where her tone is coming from. Amber narrows her eyes back, glaring at him, but then she remembers who she’s talking to and she sighs, uncrossing her arms.</p><p>“I know you want the best for her,” Amber starts. “But is this really the way to do it? I mean, you’re in here, day and night, doing god knows what experiments, all while your daughter is growing up in another room. And when you do spend time with her, all you do is tell her to ‘slow down’ and ‘be careful’ and ‘not get too excited’.” Amber straightens up, giving him an encouraging smile. “Have you ever thought that maybe the best way to give her a good life is to be a part of it?” </p><p>Richard just stares at her for a minute, not sure how to respond. <em> How does she not understand how important this is...how important his research is?  </em></p><p>Amber can tell he’s about to argue with her, and she sighs a little, taking a small step back.</p><p>“Look. I know I’m not her parent, but--”</p><p>“No,” Richard jumps in, cutting her off. “Don’t say that. You’re as much her parent as I am.” He hesitates, then, and Amber stares at him, raising an eyebrow expectantly. Eventually, he sighs reluctantly, continuing. “And...you’re right. This...all of this...it isn’t getting me anywhere. And I know that. I do. I guess I just…I don’t want to give up on her.” The words sting--he hadn’t said them out loud since Sarah had said them--but he knows, deep down, that that’s what’s been driving him this whole time.</p><p>Amber knows that too.</p><p>“I don’t blame you,” she says, stepping closer to him and giving him a small smile. “But not giving up isn’t just about finding a cure--it’s about showing her that you have faith in her and encouraging her to continue fighting.” She’s standing right next to him now, so she takes the opportunity, bumping his shoulder lightly. Richard glares in response, but he can’t help the smile that makes its way onto his face as Amber continues. “And hey, if you happen to find a cure in the process, then you’re getting a little bit of everything. Right?” He’s still at odds with his own emotions, but deep down, he knows she’s right, and he nods, which earns him a bigger smile from his best friend.</p><p>“I don’t know how I’d be able to do this without you,” he acknowledges, and Amber scoffs at him in return. </p><p>“Oh please, I’m just the maid,” she responds, winking. “Speaking of which…” She trails off, turning back to the hallway and yelling down it. “How’s that milk coming, kiddo?” </p><p>“All done, auntie Ambie!” a small voice says from down the hall, and Richard and Amber both chuckle a little, releasing any remaining tension in the room.</p><p>“So,” Amber says, turning back to him with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Are you up for some super mega intense tower building...with Legos?” Richard chuckles again, but his smile drops slightly as he turns around to take one last look at his work table, debating. However, it doesn’t take more than a few seconds for his lips to curl up again as he turns back to Amber, returning the mischievous grin.</p><p>“Always,” he replies, following her into the hallway, shutting the door behind him. </p><p>~ </p><p>For years, Richard does exactly what Amber said. His lab room becomes a playroom: beakers, petri dishes, and notebooks replaced by Legos, action figures, and drawings. And to Richard’s happy surprise, Brianna continues to grow--long past the age of four--and he starts sending her to school part time, working with her at home to practice and perfect everything she learns. Brianna’s smile and energy grows every day, and Richard’s smile grows right along with her. </p><p>But despite all of the incredible progress Brianna makes mentally, her physical body isn’t able to keep up, and by her seventh birthday, it’s impossible for her to continue going to school. The early hours and long days leave her exhausted, and Richard has no choice but to pull her out and teach her himself, on their own time. Even with her struggles, though, Brianna never loses her eagerness to learn, and on top of it all, her smile never drops. Even as her treatment shots go from monthly, to biweekly, to weekly, she keeps a strong front, always making little jokes and asking as many questions as she can to learn more, and it amazes Richard to no end.</p><p>Because while she sits there, laughing and giggling and making the best of every situation, he can feel himself slowly falling apart, knowing how close he’s coming to losing her.</p><p>Every day, he wonders if she’ll still be smiling tomorrow. Every treatment, he wonders if this is the one that won’t work. Every minute, he wonders if it’s her last.</p><p>Every second, he feels like he’s dying with her. </p><p>These are the thoughts that are running through his head as he cleans up his old work space, looking for anything he can do in a desperate attempt to keep his mind occupied. But, in doing so, he’s slowly unveiling his past attempts at finding a cure--failed experiment after failed experiment, reminding him just how much he had let his daughter down...how much he had let Sarah down. </p><p>He resists the urge to cry out, not wanting to wake Brianna sleeping down the hall, instead releasing his anger by chucking the notes in his hand to the floor, scattering them everywhere and ruining all of the work he had just done. In the process, though, he spots an unfamiliar piece of paper at the corner of his desk. He squints at it, eventually stepping closer and picking it up to read it.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Dear Mr. Walker, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Thank you for donating supplies to our high school science department. We greatly appreciate the additional materials, as they will be of great importance to our students and their future learning. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> In receiving your donation, we are pleased to see the many years of research you have put into studying hyperleukocyte cellulysis. It is a rare condition not often explored in great detail, and we are very impressed with your knowledge of cellular degeneration and your integration of protein-based medications in your attempts to find a cure.    </em>
</p><p>
  <em> As such, we would like to offer you a teaching position here at Midtown School of Science and Technology. We feel that, with your extensive knowledge and passion for science, you would be an excellent fit for our high school biology students.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> We hope that you will consider this opportunity to use your skills to shape the minds of tomorrow.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Sincerely, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> James Morita </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Dean of Students at MSST </em>
</p><p>
  <em> (718) 567 - 7851  </em>
</p><p>
  <a href="mailto:JMorita@msst.org"> <em> JMorita@msst.org </em> </a>
</p><p> </p><p>Richard stares at the letter for a minute, re-reading it a few times before looking in the top right corner of the page for the date. </p><p><em> January 16th, </em> he thinks. <em> That was only a few weeks ago.  </em></p><p>He re-reads the letter a fifth time, then looks down the hallway, thinking about his daughter. </p><p>With a teaching position, he wouldn’t be home as much as he is now, but it’s no secret that he needs the money. Brianna’s treatments are expensive, and Amber’s job can only help them so much. </p><p>If Amber can stay with Brianna, just while he’s at school, then he can hurry home the second the day is done and switch off with her, just in time for her to get to her night shift. He looks at the letter again, then back down the hallway before his eyes finally find their way back to his work table. </p><p>
  <em> Maybe he hadn’t failed them after all.  </em>
</p><p>If he takes this teaching position, then maybe he can teach other kids all that he knows about not just Brianna’s illness, but others. Maybe they can do what he never could and finally make a difference in the world. </p><p>Before he has a chance to change his mind, he rushes over to his computer, opening a new e-mail thread to type out a response acknowledging his interest. </p><p>Once he reads the finished product over, his hand hovers over the mouse, eyes glancing down the hallway once more. <em> Would taking this job go against his best friend’s advice? </em> His eyes return to the screen, and as he stares at his cursor, seconds from hitting the second button, he finally decides that, ultimately, this is truly the best thing--for him and his daughter both.</p><p>With a final exhale, he clicks the mouse and sends the e-mail through, and a tension that he hadn’t even realized he’d had releases in him. </p><p>For the first time in years, he feels like maybe, just maybe, he has a chance to save his daughter again. </p><p>And for the first time in weeks, he actually smiles.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you so much for reading! </p><p>Like I said before, the next update will come in a week, and I'll update every Wednesday until we get to the end! </p><p>If you like this story, feel free to check out my other works, and if you wanna talk about this story or any of my others, feel free to come say hi on <a href="https://kitkatwinchester.tumblr.com/">Tumblr!</a></p><p>I hope to see you all next week! :D  </p><p>P.S. I know this seems like kind of a weird start right now, but I promise, the Tony and Peter stuff is coming!! :D</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello all!! </p><p>Week 2 = Chapter 2, and lucky for me, that also means Art 2!! </p><p>Another huge shout-out to @shoyzz-art on <a href="https://shoyzz-art.tumblr.com/">Tumblr</a> for her BEAUTIFUL art contributions!! There's an art piece on this chapter, and then the next (and last) art piece will be on Chapter 6, so keep an eye out for that!! </p><p>With that said, I hope you all enjoy Chapter 2! :) </p><p>P.S. If you haven't been already, please pay close attention to the time stamps at the beginning of each chapter. Otherwise, things might get a little confusing for you as the story goes on. :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>September 2014</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dude, high school is gonna be </span>
  <em>
    <span>impossible</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter murmurs in agreement with Ned, juggling his books in one hand as he adjusts his glasses with the other. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, what teacher gives three homework assignments on the first day?” his best friend continues, casually reaching over to steady Peter’s pile of books just before they topple. Peter looks at him gratefully as he gets a better grip on the stack before answering.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Apparently, Ms. Smith.” They finally make it to Peter’s locker, and Ned instinctively unlocks it so that Peter can slide his books in. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, on the bright side,” Peter continues the conversation, organizing and switching out his books in the process. “At least we have biology next.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“At least?” Ned fires back indignantly. “Dude, biology is your thing, not mine. With my luck, it’ll probably be just as bad as the last class.” Peter giggles a little, finally getting everything situated and shutting his locker before the two of them make their way down the hallway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know. Maybe it’ll be better than you think. I hear the teacher’s pretty cool.” Ned looks at him skeptically, which makes Peter giggle again, causing the former to roll his eyes affectionately before responding.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you say so. I’m just glad our schedules line up so you can help me with all the homework.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Peter interjects, bumping his shoulder. “Don’t sell yourself short. You know you’re gonna have to help me with that computer class.” Ned chuckles a little, doing a little side to side with his head in uncertainty, but as Peter nods encouragingly to let him know he’s serious, he smiles, chuckling again as they finally make it to their biology classroom. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Per their usual, they find two open desks next to each other right up front--because, yes, they are that nerdy--and get set-up, whispering to each other all the while until they’re interrupted by their teacher speaking up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello, freshmen biology students,” the man in front of them says, his voice cheerful and light-hearted. “Welcome to your last day of a full night’s rest.” The class stares at him in horror, and Peter and Ned exchange worried glances, but then the teacher laughs, and the class laughs nervously with him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Guys, I’m kidding. This is biology! It’s gonna be fun!” This time, the students laugh with more ease, and the teacher smiles in return as he starts walking around the room. “My name’s Richard Walker, but you can call me Rich, Richard, Mr. Walker, Walker, or anything similar. I will respond to any and all of those.” Having reached the back of the room, he then spins around, holding up a finger. “However, I will not respond to anything along the lines of ‘teach’, ‘you’, or ‘man’, because, come on guys, this is still a classroom.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The students snicker again as Mr. Walker circles back to the front of the room, and Ned and Peter exchange glances, Peter mouthing a ‘told you so’ at his friend, causing Ned to smile lightly. However, they quickly turn their heads back to the front as Mr. Walker continues talking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now, with all of that in mind, while I certainly want to keep this class fun for all involved, I usually start our first class off on a bit more of a serious note.” Richard sits down at his computer, prepping the video chat software that he and his daughter have been using for the past several years. “One of the first questions I usually get as a science teacher is,” he continues, turning back to address the class. “What’s so important about biology?” He glances back at his computer, where his daughter is now waving at him and giving him a thumbs up, and he smiles at her before turning towards his projector and booting it up as he continues talking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, today, I have a very special guest who wouldn’t be here without the help of biology.” Peter and Ned look at each other in confusion, as does the rest of the class, but all heads turn back to the projector as the image finally clears, revealing the face of a girl who doesn’t seem much older than the students in the classroom. She smiles at them brightly, waving a little, and Peter feels himself smiling back naturally. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi everyone!” she greets, the smile on her face carrying into her voice. “My name’s Brianna, and that crazy guy there is my dad.” Richard chuckles a little, mouthing a “guilty” at the class--which causes another round of giggles--before his gaze goes back to his daughter again. “I know this might seem like a weird start to a biology class,” Brianna continues. “But there’s a reason Mr. Walker’s got me up here.” The camera then zooms out as Brianna backs away from it slightly, and it’s then that the class can clearly see that she’s sitting in a wheelchair. Peter raises an eyebrow, turning to Ned in question, but Ned just shrugs in return before they both turn back to the screen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You see, I’ve been in this wheelchair for the last ten years. I suffer from a rare degenerative disorder known as hyperleukocyte cellulysis. Now, I know you don’t know what that means just yet--and don’t worry, you’ll get there...as long as Mr. Walker there teaches his class right.” She looks at her dad pointedly, and Mr. Walker gives her a playful frown, which causes the class to loosen up with laughs again. “So I’ll give you a little bit of background.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the next half hour, Brianna goes into detail about her condition: how her cells are slowly eating away at their own pathways, causing her to not always get the nutrients she needs, but how doctors have used biology to find ways to treat her illness to more or less inject the nutrients directly into her cells.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So as you can see,” Brianna starts as she nears her conclusion. “Biology is a lot more important than a lot of you may realize.” She then hesitates for a minute, and Peter looks over at Mr. Walker, whose shoulders have tensed up, just the slightest. “Unfortunately, while biology has done a lot, nobody’s been able to find a cure.” Her eyes sparkle a little bit, then, and she looks around the classroom with a smile. “Yet. But I’m thinking that maybe, just maybe, if you guys pay attention in this class, one of you might be the one who figures it out.” She then looks over at her dad and winks, and he laughs a little, giving her a smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wow. Couldn’t have said it better myself. You really are the daughter of a teacher,” he jokes, which makes the rest of the class laugh again, but Peter can only stare at the girl still smiling and laughing on the screen. She’s so positive and hopeful, despite having been through so much, and it makes him wish that there was something he could do, if only to keep that smile on her face for longer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How old do you think she is?” he whispers to Ned, and Ned looks at him, then back at Brianna, shrugging a little before suggesting: </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know. She doesn’t look </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>much older. Maybe...20s?” Peter looks at Ned, a frown on his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s been living with this for twenty years, and they </span>
  <em>
    <span>still </span>
  </em>
  <span>haven’t found a cure?” Ned just stares at him for a minute, then shrugs a little.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, things like that do tend to take a really long time,” he responds, and Peter just frowns at him further.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That really sucks,” he mumbles, mostly to himself as he looks back up at the projector to see Brianna waving goodbye.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You guys better behave,” she starts, then: “Actually on second thought, make his life super difficult.” She winks again, and Richard sighs dramatically, but smiles at her nonetheless before the video feed goes black. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright,” Mr. Walker starts the second the feed goes down. “Now that we’ve gotten that excitement out of the way, let’s take a look at your syllabus.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The rest of the class goes off without a hitch, but despite Ned’s newfound excitement for the class--”This teacher is </span>
  <em>
    <span>so </span>
  </em>
  <span>much cooler than any of our other ones!” he whispers at one point--Peter can’t stop thinking about Brianna’s situation, wishing there was something he could do to help her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the bell finally rings for lunch, Peter doesn’t head out right away, telling Ned that he’ll meet him in the lunchroom in a bit. His best friend tilts his head a little in confusion--a gesture that always makes Peter grin, which he’s never really understood--but just as Ned opens his mouth to say something, Peter glances over at the teacher, and Ned gets it, head straightening as he nods in understanding.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cool dude,” he says, heading towards the door. “Take your time. I’ll grab lunch for you.” Peter smiles at him gratefully before turning to the desk, approaching sheepishly, one hand gripping his backpack strap nervously. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Umm...Mr. Walker, sir?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richard looks up from what he’s writing at the small voice, smiling comfortingly when he sees the apprehensive young teen standing in front of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey. Peter, right?” he asks, smile growing. “Did you have a question? Don’t worry, I won’t bite.” He chuckles and Peter smiles, relaxing ever so slightly, but he still shifts his feet anxiously and looks at the floor as he continues. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Umm...no. It’s not...it’s not really a...a question. I guess I just...ummm…” he trails off, suddenly feeling stupid about wanting to say anything at all. But when he looks up at his teacher again, Richard gives him an encouraging smile, setting down his pencil and giving the teen his full attention.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can tell me, Peter. Whatever it is. I want you and everyone else to feel comfortable telling me things.” Richard’s smile grows, and Peter returns the grin, standing taller as he continues. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, uh...I guess I just...I wanted to say that, uh...I’m sorry, about what you and your daughter are going through. That, uh...that really sucks. She seems really nice, and you’re...pretty cool. It’s just, uh...neither of you deserve that and...I hope they’re able to find a cure soon, to help her.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richard stares at him for a minute, thrown off. With all the nerves the teen had been expressing, that wasn’t what Richard was expecting him to say. Peter’s eyes widen a little bit at the reaction, and he steps back slightly, worried he overstepped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you or anything, I just wanted to--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No no,” Richard interjects, smiling again. “That’s...very kind of you Peter. Thank you.” Peter sighs in relief, straightening up completely and smiling back, bouncing up a little in the process. Richard’s smile grows, and he chuckles to himself at the teen’s energy now that he’s more comfortable. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now, you should probably get to lunch.” He speaks up again, leaning in and making a show of whispering behind his hand. “And I’d stay away from the green beans if I were you.” Peter giggles in response, nodding in acknowledgment before bounding out of the classroom and hurrying to the lunchroom. Richard chuckles again, leaning back in his chair and smiling to himself. He can already tell that Peter’s going to be a great student, and it’s kids like him that made him want to take this job to begin with. If there are students like Peter out there--students like his own daughter--who truly want to learn and make the world a better place, then he’s going to do everything he can to help them get there. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As his thoughts trail off, his eyes shift to the picture of his daughter that always sits on his desk, and his smile turns a little more forlorn as he stares at it, sighing. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Peter’s right. She didn’t deserve this--any of it. </span>
  </em>
  <span>As if she could hear his thoughts, his phone lights up on his desk with a text from his daughter.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>This class seems pretty promising :), </span>
  </em>
  <span>it reads. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Think you’ve got a couple good ones? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Richard stares down at the text, then looks back up at the now-empty classroom, Peter’s kind words and his clear enthusiasm sitting in his head as he thinks about the rest of his students and their own curious expressions. His smile grows as his eyes shift back down to the phone to thumb back a reply: </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Yeah, I’d say so. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>~ </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Over the next few months, biology easily becomes Peter’s favorite class. Mr. Walker is his favorite teacher and, while Richard hides it well, Peter is clearly his favorite student. Peter aces every test, and after most classes, he and Mr. Walker find themselves discussing hyperleukocyte cellulysis, looking into the science that’s already been done and theorizing future experiments. Ned has to bring lunch directly to Richard’s classroom more often than not, just to remind Peter to eat, which often forces Richard to shoo the two teens away and to their break, even if he himself enjoys the conversations and new information they both learn every day. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But in November, Richard Walker’s biology class takes a trip to OSCORP, and Peter Parker’s life changes in a way he never would’ve expected. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite his best efforts to cope with a new array of powers, abilities, and responsibilities, he gets more and more distant--from Mr. Walker, from Ned, even from his aunt and uncle--and it doesn’t go unnoticed. Richard calls his star pupil into his office one day after school, but Peter barely acknowledges him, nodding along like he’s listening, only to race out of the office as quickly as he can once Richard’s done. Ned tries to get Peter to open up and talk to him, but Peter just avoids the questions, their usual lunchtime chatter replaced with an awkward silence. Ben and May let it slide for a while, but after receiving an email from Richard and a worried phone call from Ned, they decide they’ve had enough. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Ben confronts his nephew, he’s surprised to be met with an unusual anger and frustration; for Peter, the confrontation is the last straw. Upset that he can’t tell anyone his secret, for fear of putting them in danger, he storms out, racing down the streets of Queens and attempting to get as far away from his uncle as possible. It isn’t until he finally, begrudgingly, answers his aunt’s twentieth phone call that he realizes how much of a mistake he had made. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After Ben’s death, afraid to lose another person, Peter finally starts latching on to those around him again--including Richard Walker. But Richard’s daughter is only getting sicker, and out of his own desperation and worry over his daughter’s worsening condition, much like Peter, he starts to distance himself from those around him. In April, Richard is forced to take a leave because of his daughter’s illness, and Peter doesn’t see him for the rest of the school year. Now having lost his uncle and his mentor, Peter feels alone and on the verge of breaking. Not wanting to worry his aunt, but unable to take the secrecy, once school lets out for the summer, he finally confides in his best friend. While Ned spends the rest of their break endlessly questioning Peter about his secret identity, Peter is willing to answer each and every inquiry, grateful to finally have such a big weight off his chest. As the teens head into their sophomore year, Peter’s in high spirits again, and with Ned by his side, it seems like things might finally be looking up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Little does he know, things are only about to get more complicated.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks for keeping up with this story! </p><p>If you're enjoying this fic, kudos and comments are always appreciated, and I'd love it if you check out my other works too! </p><p>For updates on this story and others, or even if you just wanna chat, you can come say hi on <a href="https://kitkatwinchester.tumblr.com/">Tumblr!</a></p><p>I hope to see you all next week for Chapter 3!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello everyone! </p><p>Here we are with Chapter 3! Sorry I'm posting a little late today. I'm on a road trip with my family, so I didn't have the chance to actually post until now. But I'm glad I'm still able to get this chapter up for you guys! </p><p>Huge shout-out again to my AMAZING bestie Grace for being such an awesome beta reader and making sure these chapters are in tip top shape before I post them. Even when she's busy, she's still got my back, and I really appreciate it! </p><p>All of that out of the way, I hope you guys enjoy Chapter 3!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>March 2005</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Tony Stark has never really liked charity events. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I mean, sure, there’s always some big party of sorts, with </span>
  <em>
    <span>lots </span>
  </em>
  <span>of women, easy to seduce with his money and charm, and lots of people who are always impressed when he talks about the glamor of his lifestyle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But, frankly, on most days, he’d rather just show off his money via envelope and </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>have to show his face and be...well, personable. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Today is one of those days. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had tried to get out of this particular gala--some fundraising event for some rare autoimmune disease--but, per their usual, Pepper, Obadiah, and Rhodey had </span>
  <em>
    <span>all</span>
  </em>
  <span> been </span>
  <em>
    <span>insistent </span>
  </em>
  <span>that he make an appearance. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So, here he is, wandering from group to group, flashing a smile, laughing in all the right places, and winking at various women just to make them blush or giggle--which, naturally, makes Pepper roll her eyes, but only when she thinks Tony isn’t looking. But, of course, he always notices, and it only makes him want to do it more. As he flirts, he charms his way through various surface level conversations, trying to make his rounds and get out as soon as possible. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At least, for a while.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mr. Stark,” Pepper says from somewhere behind him, and he turns to face her, lazy grip on his glass of champagne almost causing him to spill it. Pepper gives him her ever-popular “seriously?” glare, and he just returns it with a cheeky smile, attempting an innocent “what?” with his eyes that Pepper doesn’t buy for a second. His gaze then moves to the man she had walked over with. He is incredibly average in most senses of the word, and Tony’s first thought is that Pepper usually goes for the more high-brow guys. Pepper pegs him instantly though, and she casually rolls her eyes at him, shaking her head and dismissing his thoughts. Tony grins at her slyly, turning to the man in question, but before he can say anything, the man beats him to it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mr. Stark!” the man echoes Pepper’s words, a smile on his face and in his voice. “It is an honor to meet you, sir. I’m Dr. Richard Walker, but, please, call me Rich.” He holds out his hand, and Tony quickly hands the champagne glass to Pepper--which earns him another subtle glare--before grasping the man’s hand, plastering that charming smile back on his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So happy you could join us, Rich,” he says, shaking Richard’s hand. “And please, call me Mr. Stark.” That earns a small chuckle from Richard, but as their hands separate, Richard’s laugh dies off as he turns just barely over his shoulder at someone standing behind him--a young girl that Tony only just now notices. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t be shy, sweetheart,” Richard says to his daughter, which earns him a small glare as she looks up at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not shy,” she mumbles out, peeking out from behind Richard’s leg, but the second she realizes how close Tony is, she contradicts herself, shrinking behind him again, just a little bit. “Umm...hi Mr. Stark, sir.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The second Tony sees the girl, everything in him softens, just the slightest, and he finds himself smiling genuinely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can come out,” he says, bending down a little to look at her. “You’re not scared of the great Tony Stark, are ya?” She shakes her head “no”, and Tony chuckles a little at the action. Eventually, after several seconds, albeit begrudgingly, she steps out from her father completely, and if Tony would ever acknowledge his feelings--which he definitely </span>
  <em>
    <span>doesn’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>have, mind you--he’d probably say that, in that moment, his heart breaks, just a little bit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The girl is small and frail, her weak frame supported only by the arm crutches she's using to walk. As she curls in on herself, Tony almost worries she’ll fall over. But when she finally works up the courage to look him in the eye, Tony is surprised to see the fire and intelligence in her eyes. Her body may be weak on the outside, but inside, the girl is clearly strong, smart, and powerful, and it throws Tony off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s your name, kid?” he asks, surprising himself with the sincerity in his tone, so much so that he has to clear his throat afterwards.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Brianna,” she whispers back, but then a tiny voice in her head reminds her to be strong, and she stands up a little straighter, repeating the name louder. “Brianna Walker, sir.” Tony nods, hearing the strength and determination he can see in her eyes much more clearly in her voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And how old are you, Brianna?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ten,” she says, this time with no hesitation, using her arm crutches to face Tony more directly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wow. Ten. That’s pretty big, huh?” She nods, and Tony smirks a little. “You seem pretty smart for a ten-year-old.” Brianna tilts her head a little, considering that for a moment, then nods in return, shifting slightly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am,” she starts before her face lights up in a smile. “But, not as smart as you.” Tony gapes for a minute, not expecting any sort of compliment from someone her age. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, well,” he throws out quickly, attempting to recover. “I am a genius.” He winks at Pepper, who gives him a scolding look in return, but before Tony can say anything else, Brianna speaks up again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I bet you’re smart enough to fix me,” she says, the distinct sound of hope in her voice, and Tony quickly turns back to face her, not quite able to place the feeling in his chest. “Daddy’s been trying, and he’s pretty smart too, but he hasn’t figured it out yet. So maybe you can! You’re smart enough! And cool enough! And I believe in you!” Brianna’s excitement grows quickly as she practically jumps up and down, and Richard hurries to settle her down, worried she’ll hurt herself, before tossing Tony Stark an apologetic look. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tony doesn’t even acknowledge him, too stuck on the words “I believe in you”, his chest swelling with that odd feeling again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know what?” he mumbles, the words passing his lips before he can stop himself. “Maybe I will.” He can feel Pepper’s eyes on him, and he looks over at her, catching a hint of softness in her gaze that immediately makes him stiffen instinctively. He clears his throat, readopting the professional persona and whipping out his phone, handing it over to Pepper.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Miss Potts, would you be so kind as to take a photo of the three of us for the Walkers to keep? As a little souvenir.” Richard is thrown off, but Brianna couldn’t be more excited, so he obliges gratefully, pulling his daughter closer to him as Tony Stark steps next to them just in time for Pepper to snap a pic. The second she takes the picture, Tony steps away, giving it a look over before turning back to Richard. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ll send a nice framed copy to the address you gave us when you came in. Oh, and because I’m feeling extra generous…” Tony trails off as he pulls out his checkbook, scribbling a number out and signing it before handing a check over to Richard. “A little something, for your research.” Tony’s eyes finally find Brianna again, who’s still staring at him in an excited awe, and that something-in-him softens again—enough for him to write yet another check and hand that one over too. “And for medical bills,” he finishes, giving one last look at Brianna, a soft smile unintentionally making its way onto his face. Trying--and failing--yet again to cover up the gesture, he clears his throat, nodding to Pepper before turning around to walk the other direction. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t get very far, however, before he feels tiny arms wrap around his leg, and he glances down to see Brianna--having momentarily abandoned her crutches--clutching tightly to his leg. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Mr. Stark,” she says, voice barely above a whisper. “For everything.” Tony freezes, looking over at Pepper for some sort of guidance, but she just shrugs her shoulders at him, mouthing a “do whatever you’re gonna do” at him before turning away. Tony stares after her, then looks down at the little girl still clutching onto his leg...just like she’s clutching onto her life. That feeling hits his chest again, and he can’t help but smile a little as he awkwardly leans down so she can hear him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure thing, kid,” he says, trying to hide the smile in his voice. But when Brianna looks up at him, all smile and wonderment as she slowly extracts herself from his leg, his smile only grows. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe these charity events aren’t so bad after all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>~ </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The second Tony has walked away, Richard practically runs over to his daughter, grip tight on her crutches as he practically hurls them back into her arms. She scowls at him a little, not wanting the assist, but Richard can tell she was having a hard time keeping herself upright.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can’t just do that,” Richard scolds lightly. “We’ve talked about this. It’s too dangerous for you to do that much activity.” Brianna stares at him, and he watches a range of emotions go through her ten-year-old eyes--anger, confusion, hurt, frustration...but in the end, it’s her excitement that wins out, just like it always has. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Worth it,” she says simply, grinning cheekily, and Richard can’t help the small laugh that escapes him, which makes Brianna giggle in return. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With his daughter finally settled and somewhat safe again, Richard finally brings the checks back into his view to read the numbers written on them. When he does, his eyes practically bug out of his head, and he almost drops them out of shock. Brianna’s own eyes widen at his reaction, and she comes closer to him in concern, standing on her tiptoes in an attempt to see what he’s reading.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s wrong, Daddy?” she asks, frowning a little. “Did Mr. Stark do something wrong?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richard continues to gape at the checks for several seconds. Eventually, he realizes that his daughter asked him a question, and he composes himself quickly, clearing his throat lightly before turning to look at her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Actually,” he starts, giving her a bright smile. “Mr. Stark did something very very wonderful, and very very right.” He folds the check carefully, pulling out his wallet and gently putting them inside. </span>
  <em>
    <span>With </span>
  </em>
  <span>that </span>
  <em>
    <span>kind of money, he </span>
  </em>
  <span>definitely </span>
  <em>
    <span>doesn’t wanna lose these. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Once he’s sure they’re secure, he tucks his wallet away again before looking down at his daughter, who’s still staring at him with a slight head tilt and confusion on her face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell ya what,” he says, leaning down to be on her level. “Why don’t we get some ice cream?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>~ </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richard probably shouldn’t be surprised by the package in front of the door when he and his daughter finally arrive home from their ice cream adventure. He picks it up carefully, setting it gently on the counter along with his wallet, heavy with possibility, before arguing with his daughter for a full ten minutes and twenty-five seconds--but, ya know, who’s counting?--about her bedtime. Eventually, though, she yawns, and he wins, gracefully picking her up and carrying her up the stairs to her bedroom, making her giggle all the way there. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once she’s safely tucked in bed, and once Richard is convinced she’s going to </span>
  <em>
    <span>stay </span>
  </em>
  <span>in bed, he makes his way back downstairs and gingerly opens the package, not wanting to damage the contents. Sure enough, as promised, the picture of Richard and Brianna with the one and only Tony Stark is inside, and if he squints, he can see a small message written at the bottom of the picture, just above the frame: </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>From one scientist to another: there’s always a way. - Tony Stark </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Richard actually laughs in disbelief. He grabs the picture in one hand and his wallet in the other, racing back to his miniature office with newfound hope. Shoving aside various teacher’s papers, he makes a space for the picture on the corner of his desk, propping it up carefully before opening his wallet and laying the checks beside it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With this kind of money, he can finally start buying new research tools-- ones he had never been able to afford before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With these funds, he can pay for the more expensive and more effective treatments, giving Brianna more time--more days, more minutes, more seconds. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With Tony Stark’s help, he may just have a chance to save his daughter’s life. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gathering several of his old notes and supplies, he spreads them out on his desk, trading students’ worksheets and papers for his own as he pours through them all for the first time in years. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because for the first time in years, he has hope again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And maybe now, hope will be enough.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks again for reading and keeping up with this story! In case you haven't figured it out yet, there's a lot of jumping around for the first few chapters, but the time stamps at the top of the chapters should help you keep track. :) </p><p>If you guys have any questions or wanna chat about the story--or about anything else!--you can come find me on <a href="https://kitkatwinchester.tumblr.com/">Tumblr!</a></p><p>Otherwise, kudos and comments are always appreciated! </p><p>I hope to see you all next week for Chapter 4! :D &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello everyone! </p><p>I am SO SORRY that this update is so late!! The chapter was written, but it wasn't ended, and I honestly kind of lost track of my days, so by the time I realized it was Wednesday, it was too late for my AMAZING beta to take a look at it. And then she did, but then I was at work, and it just got complicated. </p><p>So, long story short, I got busy, and I lost track of time, but here is the update!! I hope you'll still accept it late!! </p><p>That said, now that I'm here, I'd like to give a HUGE shout-out to whoever nominated this story for an Irondad Creator Award!! I CANNOT thank you enough!! That seriously means so much to me, especially since the story isn't even finished yet!! I hope it lives up to your expectations!! &lt;3 &lt;3 &lt;3 </p><p>Alright. Without further adieu, let's jump in to Chapter 5!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>November 2016</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>It had happened so fast.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One minute, Brianna had been sitting on the couch, reading a book. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The next, she’d fallen off, and Richard hadn’t been able to wake her up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So here he is, pacing a hospital waiting room yet again--nearly twenty years to the day--waiting anxiously, hoping for good news, yet fearing the worst. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No matter how much he’d been anticipating this day, he’s still not ready for it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>All of his movements stop as Brianna’s usual doctor, Aaron Sheaver, finally steps back through the double doors. His eyes lock onto Richard’s immediately, and as he makes his way over, Richard can’t help the way his body tenses as he prepares for the inevitable. As such, when Dr. Sheaver finally reaches him, his words come as a surprise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s stable,” the doctor says, and Richard visibly exhales in relief. “At least,” Dr. Sheaver continues, holding up a hand hesitantly. “For the moment. Her blood sugar levels are dangerously low, and I had to do a lot of tests to send to the lab.” Richard can feel the way his heart rate rises at that, but he tries to keep his cool, nodding along as the doctor continues. “For the moment, she’s on some IV fluids to keep her body going until we can find a more suitable solution, based on the lab results.” Dr. Sheaver says with a tone of encouragement, but there’s a sadness in his eyes even as he says: “She’s resting now, but you’re more than welcome to see her.” Richard nods again, a numbness taking over his body as he slowly follows Dr. Sheaver back through the double doors and towards his daughter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they finally reach Brianna’s room, Dr. Sheaver gestures for him to go first. Despite his concern, Richard hesitates for a second, afraid of what he’ll find. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wants to see her. Of course he does. But a part of him is almost scared to see her like this--he doesn’t want this version of her, sick and hurting, to be the one he remembers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite that, he doesn’t stop long, quickly stepping fully into the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>To his relief, Brianna seems to be in very little pain, if any. Her head is leaning slightly to one side, just like it always does when she sleeps, and while her skin tone is certainly paler than usual, overall, she looks just as she had in her bed the night before. He exhales gratefully, making his way to her bedside. He spots a chair a few feet away and pulls it closer, sitting on the opposite side of the IV and positioning himself so he can see her face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll give you some time,” Dr. Sheaver whispers gently from the doorway. “You know how this works: just hit the call button if you need anything.” He then shuts the door gently, making his way back down the hallway, a small frown making its way onto his lips as the gravity of the situation sinks; he wishes he could be more optimistic. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In Brianna’s hospital room, Richard looks down at his daughter, seemingly so peaceful, and he smiles slightly, reaching a hand out to push away some stray hairs from her ever beautiful face...just like her mother.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not going anywhere, okay?” he whispers, bending forward to place a kiss on her forehead. He then reaches for her hand, tightening his grip slightly as his mind wanders to all those years ago. “No matter what.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richard doesn’t leave his daughter’s side for the next several hours. Even when Dr. Sheaver returns with the lab results, they don’t stray far from her bed, moving to the corner of the room and talking in hushed voices to avoid waking her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Unfortunately, as I suspected, the results were certainly not ideal. Her body almost appears to be shutting down as a result of the weakness in her cells.” As Dr. Sheaver explains her issues and their various solutions, Richard nods and does his best to follow along, but all he can hear in his head is “shutting down”. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>This is it, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he thinks, his entire body feeling a premature grief. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m gonna lose her. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He manages to focus on the doctor again as the man explains their treatment options.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’ll need to be hospitalized for the next several weeks, at least. We need to make sure the medication we give her is directly entering her blood stream.” Dr. Sheaver pauses, then, debating how to phrase his next sentence. “We’re going to do everything we can, but unfortunately, I cannot guarantee a full recovery this time.” Richard’s thoughts race again as his anxieties grow, but instead of expressing any of them, he just nods--the only movement he can manage at the moment. Dr. Sheaver can tell Richard is struggling to work through the information, so he quickly does his best to offer reassurance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you’d like to go home and collect any items you or your daughter might need, I can have one of our nurses stay here with Brianna and set-up an area for you in the room for when you return.” Richard stares at him in surprise for a minute, but the doctor quickly answers his unspoken question. “While this isn’t something we generally allow for an extended period of time, in this situation, I’m more than willing to let you stay here with her, given the circumstances.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The word “circumstances” creates a new pit in Richard’s stomach, but he does his best to focus on the positives, nodding to Dr. Sheaver again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We don’t live far,” Richard states. “I should be able to grab a few items and be back in a half hour or so.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll have a nurse sit in for an hour then,” Dr. Sheaver says. “Just in case.” Richard nods, and gives him a small smile of gratitude, which Dr. Sheaver returns. Richard glances over at Brianna, taking the few steps back towards her bedside and grabbing her hand again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be right back, sweetheart,” he starts, kissing her hand lightly. “I promise.” After several seconds of standing next to her, he finally, albeit reluctantly, places her hand back on the bed and turns back to Dr. Sheaver as a nurse knocks on the door and walks into the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Keep an eye on her, please,” he addresses the nurse. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” With one last look at Brianna, he grabs his jacket and hurries out the door and down the hallway, wanting to be back by her side as quickly as possible. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>~ </span>
</p><p>
  <span>To Richard’s relief, when he returns to the hospital forty minutes later--which, for him, was too long--Brianna is doing just fine, and the nurse, Makayla, true to her word, is keeping a watchful eye. She smiles at him when he walks back in, standing up from the chair she’d been in and gesturing him over. He obliges, re-adjusting his grip on the small suitcase he brought as he wheels it towards what he now realizes is a small couch in the corner of the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She woke up briefly while you were gone,” Makayla whispers, her voice laced with kindness. “She didn’t say much--she was still pretty out of it from all the medication--but I figured you’d want to know.” Richard smiled and thanked her, relief flooding through him again. </span>
  <em>
    <span>If she had woken up, then maybe there really is a chance. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can make yourself comfortable,” the nurse continues, making a few notes on his daughter’s chart before glancing back up at him. “And if you or your daughter need anything, you can press the call button, like usual. Dr. Sheaver and I will be heading out for the night in the next hour, but we’ll make sure to give all the details to the next shift, so they can keep as close of an eye on her as we have.” She smiles kindly again, but this time, there’s a hint of sadness behind it too. “We all want Brianna to get better. She’s a really incredible young woman.” Richard freezes in the middle of unpacking, tensing up slightly, but he shakes it off quickly, looking back at the nurse with a smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I--</span>
  <em>
    <span>we </span>
  </em>
  <span>really appreciate that. Thank you.” Makayla smiles again, nodding at him slightly before making her way out of the room, shutting the door carefully behind her. Richard waits a minute to make sure she’s gone before reaching into the suitcase and pulling out a small purple teddy bear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey kiddo,” he whispers, unable to hide the sadness in his tone, and silently cursing himself for it in the process. “I...I know you’ve always said you’re too old for stuffed animals, but...I brought this, from your room.” He smirks a little as he stares down at the bear. “I know, I know, I broke the ultimate daddy-daughter code by looking for it, but...I always kind of suspected you’d kept it. Honestly, I was hoping you had. It was the last thing your mom got for you, before you were born. But, you knew that already.” He trails off and sighs, mumbling to himself: “She probably can’t even hear me. What am I doing?” His eyes glance around the room. It’s so quiet. For a hospital, Richard feels like there should be noise and alarms and commotion. But no. The only sound in the room is the slight crackling of the lights above them, and a soft ticking of a clock somewhere nearby. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It reminds him so much of that day, twenty years ago...the day they first found out about their daughter’s illness. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know,” Richard starts, unable to keep his stream of consciousness in. “I haven’t been completely honest with you. When...when your mom and I first found out about your...about how hard life would be for you, I almost suggested that we saved you the trouble--kept you from the world to protect you.” He releases a nostalgic chuckle, knowing what comes next and shaking his head. “But your mom...she was stubborn, and she wouldn’t even let me say the words. I hated myself for even thinking them. But, really, there wasn’t ever a choice. We wanted you in our lives, and we wanted to do whatever we could to fight for that.” He looks down at the bear again, feeling tears spring to his eyes as the memories come flooding back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your mom wanted that more than anything. She was so excited. She did all the shopping, and all the painting and redecorating--everything we needed to get ready for you. She wanted to make your life--however long it was--as special as possible.” He looks up at his daughter, then, still sleeping so peacefully, as he feels a tear slip down his cheek. Reflexively, he reaches towards her, yet again pushing the hair out of her face and carding a hand through her curls. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re amazing, you know that?” Richard says, his voice choking a little on the words. “Since the day you were born, you have made my life better every day. You’ve filled every crevice of our tiny little house with happiness, and love, and kindness, and things I never knew I needed until you brought them to me.” He can feel the tears falling faster, but he has to say this now, or he’s afraid he never will. “I am so, </span>
  <em>
    <span>so </span>
  </em>
  <span>proud of you.” His hand rests on the top of her head, and he tears his eyes away from her face briefly in an attempt to compose himself before turning back to her sleeping form again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you more than anything, and I have loved every moment that we’ve spent together, and I would love to have more.” He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes as he prepares to say his next words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But...if this is too much for you... If it hurts you to keep fighting and to try to beat this, then…” He trails off, struggling to find the right words. “Then it’s okay. I’ll...I’ll never be ready to say goodbye to you. Never. But...I also don’t want to see you suffer. And if you think it’s time...then it’s okay. I’ll be okay. I’ll miss you every single day of my life. But I’ll be okay. Just know that you will always, </span>
  <em>
    <span>always </span>
  </em>
  <span>be with me, no matter what happens.” He leans forward again, placing a wet kiss to the top of her head before bringing his hand to hers and squeezing it lightly, three times. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And maybe she heard him, or maybe it’s out of reflex, or maybe it’s just a trick of Richard’s own mind, but, as he holds her hand and tucks the bear into her side, he swears that she squeezes three times back.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I hope I'm tugging at your heart strings a little bit here, and I hope you're letting those emotions sink in, 'cause it starts to move pretty quickly, and things get real intense real fast. ;) </p><p>Anyways. I hope you're enjoying the story! I promise, my update will be ON TIME next week! </p><p>If you're enjoying the story so far, please consider voting for it for the Irondad Creator Awards! You can find the link to vote <a href="https://href.li/?https://forms.gle/iWK94XbYGbiqZ7MY7">here.</a> I was also nominated as a prolific writer, as was one of my <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27161704">one shots,</a> so if you like my writing as a whole, please consider voting for me in those categories as well! </p><p>Otherwise, if you don't want to vote, that's okay too! I just hope you continue to enjoy the story, and if you wanna chat it up about Marvel, writing, or anything else, feel free to find me on <a href="https://kitkatwinchester.tumblr.com/">Tumblr!</a></p><p>Love you all! See you next week! &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello all! </p><p>As promised, I am on time today! Late in the day, but it's still Wednesday, so I'm counting it as a win! XD </p><p>I don't have much to say this time, however! Voting for the Irondad Creators Awards has officially opened, and this story is nominated!! If you guys are enjoying this story, I would love it if you could vote for it for the One That's a Whole New World <a href="https://href.li/?https://forms.gle/QPfdseFGQKdM78Sv5">here</a>. I'm also nominated as an author, as is one of my one-shots, so if you like what I do in general, I'd love it if you could vote for me for those too! You have until next Wednesday to vote, so feel free to read this chapter and next week's before you decide if the story is worth voting for. XD ;)  </p><p>All of that said, let's move on to the update! :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>October 2016</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you </span>
  <em>
    <span>sure</span>
  </em>
  <span> you can’t summon an army of spiders?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter rolls his eyes at his best friend, but there’s a smile on his lips even as he sighs exasperatedly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Ned, I’m sure,” he answers, the two of them finally crossing the street towards Midtown High.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay but have you ever </span>
  <em>
    <span>tried?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Ned questions, not letting the subject drop even as they start to make their way into the school.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I guess not technically,” Peter admits, but then he shakes his head at the pointed look his friend gives him. “But that’s not the point. It just...it doesn’t work like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well how do you know if you haven’t tried? Ant-Man can summon an army of ants.” Ned unintentionally raises his voice slightly, and Peter has to shush him, but none of the other students in the busy hallway seem to take notice. Ned gives him an apologetic look, but Peter just shrugs it off as he answers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I’m not Ant-Man.” Ned “hmphs” in response as the two continue the trek to their lockers, and when they finally reach them, he continues. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“True. And honestly, you’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>way </span>
  </em>
  <span>cooler.” Peter looks at him in surprise, then blushes a little bit at the genuine grin that Ned throws his way. As he turns back to finally open his locker, though, Ned finishes with: “Which is </span>
  <em>
    <span>exactly </span>
  </em>
  <span>why you should be able to summon an army of spiders.” Peter groans, shaking his head as his friend chuckles good-naturedly, opening his own locker. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After Peter switches out his various books, he eventually shuts his locker, and, unfortunately for him, Ned happens to shut his at the exact same time. The resounding </span>
  <em>
    <span>clang </span>
  </em>
  <span>echoes in his sensitive ears, and he cringes--ever since the bite, it’s bad enough that his senses are already on constant overload, but they’re even worse when he’s tired. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course, Ned notices immediately.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You okay, man?” he asks, concern etched in his face. “That’s the third time that’s happened today.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah,” Peter says, attempting to sound as nonchalant as possible as he shrugs a little. “I just didn’t sleep well is all.” Ned stares at him for a minute, disbelieving, before eventually prodding.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Didn’t sleep </span>
  <em>
    <span>well</span>
  </em>
  <span>, or didn’t sleep at </span>
  <em>
    <span>all?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Peter glares at him, slightly annoyed at his overprotectiveness, but mostly annoyed that he’s seeing right through Peter’s facade. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I slept plenty.” Ned gives him a look again, and Peter finally sighs, mumbling: “Okay okay, so I got three hours.” Ned stares at him incredulously, but before he can say anything, Peter speaks up. “It wasn’t my fault, okay? I had that English paper due today, and I </span>
  <em>
    <span>was </span>
  </em>
  <span>working on it, but then I heard this little girl crying down the street, and I couldn’t just </span>
  <em>
    <span>leave </span>
  </em>
  <span>her--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s cool, dude,” Ned says, cutting him off. “Just, like, let me know if you need earmuffs or something.” He then smiles, and Peter sighs in relief, nodding and smiling back gratefully as they both make their way to homeroom. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As the day carries on, Peter’s exhaustion is really starting to take its toll, and considering he’s already getting sent to the office after school because he forgot his physics homework </span>
  <em>
    <span>again, </span>
  </em>
  <span>the last place Peter really wants to be is shop class--the constant clanging and buzzing of the machines won’t do anything for his hearing, or his headache. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luckily, Ned is awesome as always.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know it’s not much,” his friend says, offering a pair of headphones once they’re partnered up for their project. “But they’re noise cancelling, supposedly, so maybe it’ll help a little.” Peter opens his mouth to protest, but then one of his classmates starts to use the buzz saw and Peter winces reflexively. Ned gives him another pointed look and Peter sighs, taking the headphones and reluctantly sliding them over his ears. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>To his surprise, the noise quiets </span>
  <em>
    <span>significantly. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He can still hear the occasional screech of metal, and Ned’s voice stands out pretty clearly, but it’s certainly quieter and more manageable.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Man, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he thinks.</span>
  <em>
    <span> Why didn’t I think of this sooner? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Better?” he hears Ned ask, and Peter nods, grinning, which earns him a grin back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good. You can keep them,” his friend says. Peter stares at him, shaking his head adamantly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re yours, Ned. I can’t take them from you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Trust me, dude, you need them more than I do,” Ned insists, shrugging nonchalantly. Peter wants to protest again, but he can’t deny how much better he feels with the headphones on, so he opts for smiling gratefully instead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No problem,” Ned responds before a sly grin stretches across his face. “So...does this mean I </span>
  <em>
    <span>am </span>
  </em>
  <span>your Guy in the Chair?” Peter rolls his eyes, laughing a little at the title Ned’s been asking about since August. </span>
</p><p><span>“Nah, just my best friend,” Peter says cheekily.</span> <span>Ned shakes his head, a redness slowly forming in his cheeks that he tries desperately to hide. </span></p><p>
  <span>“Well, I’ll take that any day.” To Peter’s surprise, his own cheeks redden at that--</span>
  <em>
    <span>why does that keep happening?</span>
  </em>
  <span>--but he shrugs it off, opting for a small smile in return. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their moment is interrupted, though, when Ned unceremoniously hammers his own finger. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ow! Shit!” The hammer clangs to the table, and instinctually, Peter puts a reassuring hand on Ned’s shoulder, the giddy feeling it brings momentarily distracting Ned from the pain as he turns to look at Peter. It occurs to him, then, how loud the noise probably was, and he looks at his friend in horror. “I’m so sorry!” Peter smiles lightly, shaking his head and gesturing pointedly to the headphones before his own face etches in concern.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you okay?” Ned nods, rubbing his finger with a small grimace.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. It just...threw me off is all.” Peter frowns.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe stop worrying about me and worry about where your hammer’s going,” he smirks, picking up the hammer from where Ned dropped it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m always worried about you. That’s why I should be your Guy in the Chair.” Peter rolls his eyes, taking over where Ned left off and hammering the nail into place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re really not gonna let that drop, huh?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nope,” Ned responds cheekily, but then an idea occurs to him, and he taps on the left headphone, gesturing for Peter to lift it. Confused, Peter obliges, moving the headphone off of his ear before continuing his hammering as Ned leans in to whisper: “Dude, do you think you could heal me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter, thrown off by the question, brings the hammer down too hard, pushing the nail straight through the board and breaking the entire thing in half. </span>
  <em>
    <span>...oops. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Casually glancing around to make sure no one noticed, he pushes the pieces aside, turning to Ned with a flabbergasted expression, his own voice at a whisper. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. Why on </span>
  <em>
    <span>earth </span>
  </em>
  <span>would I be able to heal you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know, that whole regeneration thing you do,” Ned says like it isn’t the craziest thing in the world. </span>
</p><p><span>“Yeah, to </span><em><span>myself</span></em><span>,” Peter emphasizes. “I’m not a wizard. I can’t just...heal other people.” Ned raises an eyebrow, but before he can say anything, Peter interrupts him. “And no, I haven’t tried it, because </span><em><span>why would I</span></em> <em><span>try it?</span></em><span>” He can hear his voice getting slightly louder as he gets more frustrated, and he tries to remind himself to be quiet; luckily, most of the other classmates are too focused on their own projects to pay them any mind.</span> <span>“It’s...it has to do with my DNA, not my abilities. It’s not like I hover a hand over a knife wound and it feels better. My body just...does it on his own. Believe me, if I could do that, I would’ve done it a long time ago...” Peter trails off, his thoughts flashing back to that fateful night with his uncle, and he looks away, glancing around the room briefly before distracting himself by walking away to look for a new piece of wood. Ned can tell where Peter’s head went though, and he frowns, mad at himself for even slightly causing that thought. </span></p><p>
  <span>“Look, all I’m saying is, maybe you can do more than you realize,” Ned says when Peter finally comes back, brandishing the new wood. “And even if you can’t, you’re still the coolest superhero I know.” Peter stares at him for a minute, his thoughts still wandering, but eventually, he smirks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m the </span>
  <em>
    <span>only </span>
  </em>
  <span>superhero you know."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hold on, not true!” Ned defends, grateful that Peter seems to be cheering up. “Remember that time I saw Black Widow at the airport?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That wasn’t Black Widow,” Peter argues. “It was just a girl wearing a diving suit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure? ‘Cause I still think it could’ve been.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Her hair wasn’t even red!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>~ </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter’s sitting in one of the office chairs, tapping his foot, anxiously waiting for Principal Morita to be done with his meeting. The headphones Ned gave him earlier are tucked safely in his backpack; with most of the students having gone home, the office is quiet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Trying to cure his boredom, he focuses on various sounds--the ticking of the clock, footsteps in the hallway, a dog barking somewhere across the street. And then, to his surprise, he manages to catch Principal Morita’s voice. Curious, he focuses on it, but immediately shakes his head at himself; he has no idea who Principal Morita is meeting with, but he shouldn’t be eavesdropping. But when another voice speaks up, Peter quiets the moral voice in his head, listening. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Is that...Mr. Walker? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know this isn’t ideal for you or the students, but Brianna’s only getting worse, and I just…” he trails off, and when he does, Peter’s eyes widen in realization. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brianna is Mr. Walker’s daughter. The one with hyperleukocyte cellulysis. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The realization brings back a rush of memories: Brianna’s smile on the video screen, afternoons spent researching the reconstruction of cells in a body, looking forward to every single biology class where he could share any new findings with his teacher…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And the memory of the day he walked into the classroom to learn that Mr. Walker wouldn’t be coming back for the rest of the year. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Honestly, Peter hadn’t ever expected to see him again. At the time, he’d tried asking other teachers what had happened, but all they would say was that he was dealing with a lot of personal issues. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even back then, Peter knew it had to be about Brianna. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now, hearing him talk about her, his heart breaks again for all that their family has been through, and he quickly tunes back in to hear the rest of the conversation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course I’ll give you the time off,” Principal Morita is saying, his voice laced with kindness and sympathy. “I’m happy to have you stay until the holidays, but if you feel like you need to leave sooner, just let me know. Obviously, this is a very difficult situation, and I wouldn’t expect you to try to work when dealing with something like this.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you sir,” Richard responds, his voice tired and sad. “I really appreciate it.” Peter can hear shuffling, then, and he quickly tries to act as nonchalant as possible to pretend he wasn’t listening. When the door to Morita’s office finally opens, Richard steps out first, turning around to shake Principal Morita’s hand before making his way towards the front doors of the office--right next to Peter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter takes a glance over at Principal Morita, who’s clearly waiting for him, but he can’t just let the opportunity slip by.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mr. Walker, sir?” he speaks up as he stands, getting the teacher’s attention. When Richard turns to face him, it takes him a second to focus on the owner of the voice, but once he does, his tired expression turns into a smile at seeing his former student. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Peter! It’s been a while. How are things? Sophomore year treating you okay?” Peter nods, face automatically lighting up at the easy energy they still have. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah, things are good. Biology is </span>
  <em>
    <span>way </span>
  </em>
  <span>cooler than chemistry, though.” That earns a laugh from Richard, and Peter giggles himself, but stops when a thought occurs to him. He looks down at the floor briefly, shuffling his feet nervously before working up the courage to glance back up at his teacher. “Uh...how’s...how’s your daughter?” Richard stiffens for a split second, but then he quickly does his best to hide it, giving Peter a sad smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, ya know, things could definitely be better, but Brianna’s strong, and we’ll push through, just like we always do.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter doesn’t buy the front for a second, but he nods anyways, smiling encouragingly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know she will,” he states, determinedly. “I know you both will.” Richard chuckles a little, surprised at Peter’s reaction, but grateful nonetheless.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Peter. I appreciate it. Really.” Richard then finally catches Mr. Morita’s gaze--who’s obviously getting a little impatient--and he smirks a little, nodding to him. “Don’t be too hard on him, Principal Morita. He’s a good kid, even if he does get himself into trouble sometimes.” Peter resists the urge to roll his eyes, instead opting for an apologetic look in Mr. Morita’s direction before turning back to Mr. Walker as he continues talking. “Have a good rest of the school year, Pete. Come visit me sometime, okay?” Richard gives him a small wave before walking out of the office, and Peter waves back before turning to Mr. Morita, apologies all over his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, sir,” he says sheepishly, and Mr. Morita, despite his impatience, smiles gently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, come on in, Peter,” he says, and the two make their way into his office, the door shutting behind them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just like last time, because of Peter’s usually stellar grades, Mr. Morita lets him off with a week of detention and a reminder to keep up with his schoolwork in the future. But as Peter finally exits the building and makes his way home, his mind is stuck on things far beyond his normal school day. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What if Ned has a point?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Before he got bit, Peter had studied a lot about cells and how they heal, but there had never really been a way for them to fully regenerate. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But now, he’s living proof that it’s possible.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could study his own DNA and how it regenerates, and</span>
  <em>
    <span> maybe </span>
  </em>
  <span>he could find a way to use it to heal someone else. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Someone like Brianna. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a new burst of adrenaline and a skip in his step, Peter practically runs the rest of the way to his apartment, electing to skip out on his usual Spider-Man patrol, just this once, to help someone in a different way. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And with everything he knows now, maybe this time, he’ll find a way.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks for reading and keeping up with this story! I promise, the Tony and Peter content is coming up soon! We've got a few more chapters of build-up, and then we get to the good stuff. </p><p>Thank you for bearing with me while we work through all of the backstory! I hope it's interesting enough to keep you invested! :) </p><p>If you're liking this story, like I said before, please consider voting for it for the Irondad Creators Awards, as well as potentially voting for me as an author. Otherwise, if you wanna check out my other stories or just come say hi, you can find me on <a href="https://kitkatwinchester.tumblr.com/">Tumblr!</a></p><p>Thanks again for all your support! See you all next week! &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello everyone! </p><p>Welcome to Chapter 7! This is going to be a short update, and I apologize for that, but this chapter is honestly just intended to give you some background on my version of Captain America: Civil War and how that impacts how Tony and Peter eventually meet. (Btw, I added a couple of canon divergence tags to fit this chapter and, eventually, Chapter 9, because I forgot to include them before.) </p><p>In any case, it does have some nice Pepperony content, so I hope that quality really is better than quantity, and the cute moments make up for the smaller word count. </p><p>Also, final MAJOR shout-out to my INCREDIBLE artist partner, @shoyzz-art, who has yet another PERFECT (and, sadly, last) piece attached to this chapter! The pieces you made for my writing are absolutely BEAUTIFUL, and I'm so glad I get to include another one on this chapter!! Thank you SO MUCH for picking my story!! It's been an honor!! Please go check them out on <a href="https://shoyzz-art.tumblr.com/">Tumblr</a> and support their work, because they ROCK!! &lt;3 &lt;3 </p><p>All of that said, thank you for continuing to keep up with this story! Just two chapters left of preamble, and then we get to the good stuff (aka Tony and Peter). :) </p><p>Hope you enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> February 2017 </em>
</p><p>Tony’s tinkering should be distracting him. </p><p>It isn’t. </p><p>
  <em> “I’m not the one that needs to watch their back.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Don’t bullshit me, Rogers! Did you know?” “Yes.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “He’s my friend.” “So was I.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Rhodey, falling and falling and falling, shot down by the quinjet they’d used to escape.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The Winter Soldier, punching his father, strangling his mother.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Steve’s shield, aimed for his head, hitting his arc reactor at the very last second instead.  </em>
</p><p>It should’ve ended differently. </p><p>He’d <em> wanted </em>it to end differently. </p><p>But Steve just <em> wouldn’t listen.  </em></p><p>If he had only trusted him…</p><p>But instead, he made everyone else turn against him too. Wanda, Nat, Sam...even Clint seemed to be taking Steve’s side on the whole issue, helping them all escape from SHIELD. </p><p>And at the end of everything, they’d even broken Sam out of prison, making each and every one of them fugitives. </p><p>But that still wasn’t the worst of it. </p><p>No. </p><p>The worst of it was that Steve <em> knew.  </em></p><p>He knew, all that time, that <em> Barnes </em> had killed <em> Tony’s </em>parents. </p><p>And he didn’t say a thing. </p><p>Tony wanted to forgive him, more than anything.</p><p>But after a betrayal like that, he just...couldn’t. </p><p>After that, Steve’s apology letter meant jack shit. </p><p>Anger overtaking him, he chucks the wrench in his hand across the room, hitting DUM-E, who squeals a little in protest, shaking his arm at him. Tony doesn’t even acknowledge the movement, resisting the urge to let out a scream, instead shoving his half-finished project to the floor. Unfortunately, the resounding <em> crash </em>barely leaves a dent on the tech, and Tony’s anger and hurt only grows. </p><p>
  <em> Why do I have to make my shit so fucking durable?  </em>
</p><p>It suddenly occurs to him that there’s someone else in the room, and he looks up to see Pepper staring at him, her face showing clear concern, despite her attempts to hide it. </p><p>“I’ve been going through your mail,” Pepper starts, choosing to momentarily ignore the scene she’d just walked into. “There’s one I think you should look at.” Tony just stares at her for a minute, trying to convince his brain to take the out she’s providing. Reading fan mail had always been a good distraction for him. Why should now be any different? </p><p>“More fan mail singing my praises?” he finally asks, channeling his usual charm to act with as much nonchalance as he can, adopting a cocky grin. Pepper rolls her eyes good-naturedly as she crosses to Tony, playing into the whole charade, but when she starts to hand him the letter, she keeps her hold on it before he can take it from her completely.</p><p>“Do you want to talk about it?” Tony freezes, glancing up at Pepper.</p><p><em> Not really, </em>his brain tells him automatically, but based on the look Pepper’s giving him, that answer isn’t really an option; one way or another, they’re going to end up talking about it at some point, so it might as well be now. He sighs, grabbing the unopened letter and setting it down, staring at her. </p><p>“I wish it had gone differently,” he admits, his muscles tensing again as the anger returns. “I wish Rogers would’ve just...<em> listened </em> to me, for once in his life.” He turns away and starts pacing the room. “I mean, we were friends, all of us. We were a <em> team. </em>But he stabbed me in the back, and he brought Nat with him, and now, what are we, huh? What are we?” He’s back at his workstation now, his voice and body projecting his anger, but inside, he just feels dejected and hurt. </p><p>He’d finally put trust in someone again, and <em> this </em>is where it had gotten him. </p><p>“Do you trust me?” Pepper asks, suddenly. <em> Shit, had he said that part out loud?  </em></p><p>When he looks back at Pepper, though, it seems like she isn’t directly responding to anything he said, but more so asking the question in general. <em> How is she always reading my mind? </em>He nods immediately, and she smiles lightly, resting a gentle hand on his arm.</p><p>“Then trust me when I say that you--all of you--will get past this.” He stares at her, disbelieving, but she gives him a look urging him not to protest before continuing. “It won’t be easy, by any means, and there are apologies to be said all around, but eventually, you’ll all be able to forgive each other. And then, maybe you guys can be a team again."</p><p>
  
</p><p>Pepper leans forward to place a gentle kiss on his cheek, and Tony smiles, reveling in her touch. Things always make more sense when Pepper’s around. </p><p>“You really have that much faith in us, huh?” Pepper chuckles a little, smiling encouragingly.</p><p>“I do, and you should too.” She grabs his hand, squeezing it gently. “I know you, and I know how much you love them--all of them. These kinds of things...they take time. And what Steve did to you wasn’t right, by any means, but you guys are still family. And families always forgive each other, eventually. The world’s in an okay place right now. You guys have the time to work through forgiving each other. And when the world needs the Avengers again, you guys’ll have each other’s backs again, just like always.”</p><p>Tony stares at her for a minute, and while he can’t say that he has the same confidence Pepper does, what she’s said still makes him feel significantly better than he had before. </p><p>Maybe Steve’s letter really does mean something, in the long run. </p><p>For now, though, Tony’s still furious and broken. </p><p>But Pepper’s right: it’ll take time.</p><p>He just hopes the world has that kind of time. </p><p>As his thoughts start to wander, he remembers the letter that Pepper had handed to him, and, curiously, he looks back down at where he had set it on his work station.</p><p>“What’s in this letter, anyways?” he asks, releasing Pepper’s hand to pick it up again. She smiles, oddly mischievous, as she turns away.</p><p>“Read it and find out,” she says over her shoulder, grabbing the rest of the mail that had been in her hand and making her way back upstairs. Raising an eyebrow at her departing figure, Tony finally takes the letter out of the envelope, unfolding it and starting to read, and what the letter says makes his eyebrow raise even more. </p><p><em> Why would he contact me now, after all these years? </em> he thinks to himself, skimming through the contents again. <em> And what kind of request is this? </em></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Duh duh duuuuuhn. </p><p>And the set-up continues. ;) </p><p>Thanks again for reading this story! </p><p>In case it wasn't quite clear enough, my idea is that the airport battle never actually happened--Steve and Bucky just went after Zemo after escaping from SHIELD--because, let's be honest--that airport fight just wouldn't be the same without Peter in it. XD </p><p>Anyways. </p><p>If you like what I do, there's still time to vote for me in the Irondad Creator Awards! This story is nominated, as is one of my <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27161704">one-shots</a>, and I've been nominated as a writer as well, so if you like this story and/or any of my others, please consider voting for me <a href="https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLSe7NyDbCvfsD0F2Ra2WdBJLSN5IRP5ToqwWTWdC5dDqQqKDYw/viewform">here.</a> Today is the last day to vote, and I'd really appreciate it if you'd vote for me! :) </p><p>As always, if you have any questions about the story or just wanna chat, you can come say hi on <a href="https://kitkatwinchester.tumblr.com/">Tumblr!</a> :)</p><p>Hope to see you all for the next update! &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Surprise!! </p><p>You didn't <em>really<em> think I'd leave you with only a 1,000 word update, did you? ;) </em></em></p><p>
  <em>
    <em>This chapter still contains quite a bit of set-up, but lucky for you, we do get to delve some more into Peter's relationships with his loved ones, which becomes prett important later (hint hint wink wink nudge nudge). </em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>In any case, I hope you guys like this surprise update! After this, you will have to wait until next Wednesday, but I hope this gives you something more to look forward to. ;) </em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>Enjoy!</em>
  </em>
</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>November 2016</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter knows that what he’s been doing isn’t exactly smart. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In fact, if anyone had been watching him, they probably would’ve said he was crazy and immediately sent him to a psych ward. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But there is no good way to test his healing abilities other than doing things that require healing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And yeah, okay, some of his methods are a little unorthodox--he may have been holding back </span>
  <em>
    <span>just </span>
  </em>
  <span>a little while fighting that mugger--but every single injury has healed eventually...even if some of them have required extra long and baggy clothes to cover up the aftermath. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But it’s worth it, because it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>working. </span>
  </em>
  <span>His healing factor really can withstand pretty much anything. While “accidentally” giving himself a third degree burn definitely hurt like a mofo--and was </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>difficult to hide from his aunt--it stopped hurting once his skin ultimately returned to normal a week later.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As exhausting as the excursions have been, it’s honestly been kind of fascinating to see just how much he can regenerate. Between spilling toxic chemicals on himself, to breaking bones, to simply getting normal cuts and bruises, he’s more or less been able to make a full recovery within five or six days every time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ned, of course, was convinced Peter was gonna get himself killed--especially after Peter almost passed out in English--but it’s been a month, and Peter’s still kicking; and now, he finally feels confident that his DNA really could be used to find a cure for hyperleukocyte cellulysis, and maybe even other degenerative diseases. If it can regenerate cells in his own body, with the right formula, who's to say it couldn’t regenerate cells in someone </span>
  <em>
    <span>else’s</span>
  </em>
  <span>? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So, armed with a vial of his blood--which was honestly the hardest part, considering the mere sight of a needle makes him shake uncontrollably--he makes his way into Midtown High a good half hour before his first class, hoping to talk to Mr. Walker before any other students are around. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But when he walks into his former biology classroom, there’s a woman sitting at the desk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” he says, surprised, causing the woman to turn from the papers she was working on to face him. “Umm...hi ma’am.” She smiles at him, putting her papers down to give him her full attention. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I help you with something, sweetheart?” she asks sweetly, a small southern drawl evident when she does. Peter looks around the room briefly before answering, wondering if maybe he walked into the wrong classroom. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Actually, I was just looking for Mr. Walker, but...I must’ve gotten lost.” The woman frowns, sighing a little before she responds. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re in the right place, honey, but Mr. Walker hasn’t been back to school in several weeks. I’m Miss Baker, his substitute for the rest of the semester. It sounds like he has some unfortunate family issues goin’ on at the moment, so I’m taking his place until he’s able to come back.” She gives him a sympathetic smile, but Peter’s heart sinks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” he says simply, not sure what else to say, confusion and concern making their way into his mind. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Am I too late? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t let himself finish the thought, not wanting to give up. </span>
  <em>
    <span>No. I can’t be. There has to be a way to find him. We can still save her. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Stuck in his own head, it takes him a minute to realize Miss Baker is staring at him expectantly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry ma’am. Could you...could you repeat the question?” She smiles at him lightly, but there’s a growing concern in her eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I asked you for your name,” Miss Baker says, kindly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Peter says again, resisting the urge to facepalm at how dumb he probably sounds to this woman. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Jesus, Parker, get it together. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“I’m Peter,” he finally answers, trying to sound somewhat intelligent. “Peter Parker.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nice to meet you, Peter,” Miss Baker says, smile never faltering. “Tell you what: the next time I talk to Mr. Walker, I’ll let him know you stopped by, okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Peter says automatically, but he isn’t really listening, too busy trying to figure out how he’s going to find Mr. Walker on his own. “Thank you,” he says absentmindedly, smiling at Miss Baker before turning and making his way out of the classroom and back down the hallway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miss Baker watches him go, her concern melding with confusion. She’d watched an array of emotions flit across the young boy’s face at the news about his teacher, and she wonders what kind of situation could possibly cause him to react in that way. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The one thing she knows for sure, though, is that Peter is clearly desperate to talk to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Within a few minutes, she’s composed an e-mail letting Richard know that a student had stopped by and had needed to speak with him about something. She hovers over the send button briefly, but eventually, she clicks it; she hopes, for Peter’s sake, that Richard sees the message sooner rather than later. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>~ </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need your hacking skills.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ned stares at his friend for a minute, thrown off. Peter had only just walked into the lunch room, and this is the first thing Ned’s hearing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well...nice to see you, too,” Ned teases before grinning slightly. “And what are we putting my wonderful skills to the test for this time?” he questions, looking for elaboration. Peter sits down quickly, pulling the tray his best friend had gotten for him over to himself before obliging his friend’s confusion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mr. Walker isn’t here, but I </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>need to talk to him, so I need you to hack into the school’s records and get his address for me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ned stares at him dumbfounded. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Well that’s a new one.  </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um...” Ned stumbles, unsure how to respond. “I mean, I’ll do it, obviously, but that is definitely not what I was expecting you to say. What’s up?” Peter stares at him for a minute, debating his words, eventually sighing a little before explaining. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, so you know how I’ve been doing all that experimenting and stuff?” Ned nods, a small frown on his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, because you’re an idiot, but go on.” Peter rolls his eyes, but he’s too distracted to argue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I was only doing that because I think you were right. I think, maybe, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>can </span>
  </em>
  <span>use my healing factor to heal other people, if somebody was able to figure out a way to use my DNA.” He stares at Ned, waiting for him to get it, but his best friend just continues to stare at him expectantly. “Someone like Mr. Walker. Who has a daughter. A daughter who could desperately use some healing right about now.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, it clicks for Ned, and he mouths a small “oh”, full realization dawning on him before his face lights up in a smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wow dude. You really </span>
  <em>
    <span>are </span>
  </em>
  <span>a superhero.” Peter blushes again, awkwardly looking down at his food and shuffling his feet in response. “It’s not gonna be easy,” Ned admits, but there’s still an evident hope behind it. “But I think I can pull it off.” Peter looks back up at him, then, his face filled with hopeful delight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seriously?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, dude.” Ned smirks, then, and Peter already can sense what’s coming when he continues. “What kind of ‘Guy in the Chair’ would I be if I couldn’t?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter rolls his eyes, but this time, he doesn’t correct him, finally taking the opportunity--now that his worry has subsided slightly--to scarf down his lunch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe there is a way to make this happen after all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the time the end of the day rolls around, Ned has assured Peter that he’ll look into tactics tonight, but that he probably won’t be able to do anything until the next day at school, which Peter isn’t a fan of, but knows is better than not being able to do anything at all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So he waits, keeping himself distracted by going on his usual patrol, and when he winds up staying out a </span>
  <em>
    <span>little </span>
  </em>
  <span>later than he was intending trying to find a nice older lady’s purse--turns out it was under the passenger seat of her car the whole time--he’s convinced May is going to be pretty upset with him when he finally gets home. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>To his surprise, though, when he finally makes his way into their apartment after “academic decathlon ran late”, she’s sitting calmly at the kitchen table, tapping her fingers on it lightly. She looks up the second he walks in the door, and Peter immediately plasters an apologetic look on his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry I’m late, May,” he mumbles, smiling lightly, but instead of getting the lecture he was expecting, she just smiles softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay,” she says, an unreadable emotion in her voice, and it makes Peter hesitate, confused. “I’m just glad you’re home. Do you have some time to talk?” Peter holds his position in the kitchen entryway, not taking the last couple steps towards the kitchen table. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Talk? That’s never good…</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, sure,” Peter eventually says, carefully making his way to the table and taking a seat. May smiles at him comfortingly, reaching across the table to grab his hand and squeeze it lightly. Peter squeezes back, sighing in relief; his aunt doesn’t seem mad, so at least he knows he’s not in trouble.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know you can talk to me about anything, right baby?” she asks, and Peter stares at her for a minute, not sure where this is going. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, of course, May,” Peter reassures, but May only stares at him, trying to figure out how best to approach what it is she wants to discuss.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just want to make sure you know that I’m always here for you, no matter what. And if there’s something going on at school, or maybe with Ned, or even between us, you can tell me. I won’t judge you.” Peter nods, but his eyes narrow slightly in confusion. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I know, May,” he starts, but then it suddenly hits him, and his expression shifts. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Did she find out about Spider-Man? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>His confusion quickly becomes concern and panic, but he tries hard to mask it on his face. Unfortunately, it doesn’t go very well, because May notices the change in his body language instantly, and her worry only grows. She sits up a little straighter, her motherly instincts on high alert as she tries to find the best way to broach the subject. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look, Peter,” she says, finally. “I’m not...you’re not in trouble, okay? I’m just worried about you, and I want to make sure you’re okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter doesn’t respond, wheels in his head turning as he tries to figure out how to talk himself out of this one. Luckily, May buys him time by continuing, her worry much more evident now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just...I mean, are you just overwhelmed? You come home late from decathlon all the time, and lately, you’ve been shutting yourself in your room almost the second you get home.” She trails off, then, eyes dropping to the table, and just as Peter’s about to finally work up the courage to say something, she mumbles: “And then I noticed the baggy hoodies.” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The hoodies? What does </span>
  </em>
  <span>that</span>
  <em>
    <span> have to do with Spider-Man? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a silence between them for a few minutes, and then May sighs, a combination of frustration, worry, and sadness all tied into one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just...I have to ask.” She looks up at her nephew then, her eyes so open and warm and understanding; Peter has no idea what she’s about to ask, but he knows that, at this point, he’d tell her anything. “Peter,” she starts, looking him right in the eye. “Are you cutting yourself?” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Wait...what?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh?” Peter vocalizes, staring at his aunt in both horror and confusion. “No. No I’m not...what--how--</span>
  <em>
    <span>why </span>
  </em>
  <span>would you think I’m...cutting myself?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, the baggy clothes, changing the bathroom trash can once a day...I just...I feel like you’re shutting me out.” May explains, her eyebrows creasing in sadness and worry. “You can tell me, Peter. It’s okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Peter says, too quickly, and May’s expression only grows more worried. He tries to compose himself, taking a deep breath before leaning forward to grab her hands. “May, I promise you, I am not cutting myself. I would tell you, okay? I don’t keep secrets from you.” Well, not </span>
  <em>
    <span>those </span>
  </em>
  <span>kinds of secrets, at least. Theoretically. May stares at him for a minute, searching his face, and when she finally seems satisfied that he isn’t lying--because this time, he really isn’t--she sighs in relief, squeezing her nephew’s hands in return. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank god,” she whispers, head dropping slightly as all the tension releases from her body. “I was so worried. I thought...I don’t know what I thought.” She looks up at him, then, a smile returning to her face as she stares at her nephew with all her usual love and affection. “I’m glad you’re okay.” She laughs a little to herself, then, her grip on Peter’s hands finally loosening. “I really can be such a mom sometimes, huh?” Peter chuckles with her before responding: </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he says, and May smiles at him, her expression once again filled with love and affection. They hold each other’s gaze for several seconds before May eventually stands up to retrieve the leftovers for tonight’s dinner.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just...don’t scare me like that again, okay?” she says, tupperware in hand as she turns around to face her nephew. “And please, for the love of all things, I know you’re a teenager, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>try </span>
  </em>
  <span>to talk to me every once in a while.” Peter laughs a little, grinning widely at his aunt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will, May. Promise,” he says, and May smiles gratefully. But the second her back is turned to reheat last night’s meal, Peter’s smile falls into a slight frown.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He means it. He does. He doesn’t like worrying her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He just has something important to finish first. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ned is excitedly chittering about the various probabilities of cracking the high school’s firewall as they make their way to school--almost an hour early in the hopes of testing some of Ned’s theories before too many people are around to ask questions. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unfortunately for Peter, there isn’t much he can do in the way of helping--not until Ned cracks the first layer of coding, that is; and unfortunately for Ned, Peter is </span>
  <em>
    <span>extremely </span>
  </em>
  <span>antsy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Within five minutes of pulling out his laptop and logging onto the school network, Ned glances over the top of his screen at Peter’s bouncing figure across the cafeteria table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dude,” Ned says, getting Peter’s attention by lightly putting a hand on his knee under the table. “Your bouncing is killing me.” Peter freezes up immediately, smiling at his friend sheepishly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry,” he mumbles, tucking in on himself to quiet his fidgeting, but Ned just smiles, shaking his head a little before resuming his work.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barely a few seconds later, though, he catches Peter bouncing yet again out of the corner of his eye, and he sighs affectionately, looking over his screen again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey do you think you could look for the school’s mainframe for me? It’s probably in a locked storage room somewhere, but if we could access it, it might help.” Peter jumps up quickly, eager for the opportunity to assist--which is exactly what Ned figured he needed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Totally,” Peter says, spinning in a circle slightly before picking a direction and practically running down the hallway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>To be perfectly honest, Peter has no idea what he’s looking for or where he’d even begin to find it. He knows full well what Ned was doing by sending him on a random scavenger hunt, but he doesn’t really care--he wouldn’t have been able to sit still much longer anyways without feeling like he needed to do </span>
  <em>
    <span>something. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>As such, given the current situation, it comes as a bit of a surprise when Peter turns the corner and almost knocks over Miss Baker. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry ma’am!” he says, reaching out instinctively to catch her, but the teacher has already righted herself, and she glances at him before smiling brightly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Peter! You’re just the person I was looking for. Come with me.” She turns quickly, heading down the hallway in the opposite direction, and Peter stares after her, momentarily dumbfounded before racing to catch up to her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His dumbfounded expression isn’t gone long, however, because when they finally stop walking, she gestures him into her classroom, and Peter is shocked to see none other than Mr. Walker standing in front of him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mr. Walker?” he vocalizes, surprise on his face evident in his voice. “I thought you were...I didn’t...ummm...hi,” he finally stumbles out as a finish, a small bit of his awkwardness returning. Richard smiles at him lightly, but there’s a sadness in his eyes that Peter could read from a while away, and it makes him frown a little in return. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey Pete,” Richard finally says. “Miss Baker here let me know you wanted to talk to me. I had to stop by the school anyways to drop a few things off, and I was hoping to catch you on the way out, but I guess now works?” He says the last part as a question, unsure if Peter is actually able to talk to him at the moment, but Peter nods instantly, grateful that Mr. Walker is here at all. He glances at Miss Baker, and she takes the hint, excusing herself politely before leaving the classroom, shutting the door lightly behind her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s an awkward silence between the two for a minute; absentmindedly, it occurs to Peter that Ned is still trying to hack into the school’s network, and that he should probably tell him he doesn’t need to anymore, but his thoughts are interrupted by Mr. Walker speaking up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s on your min--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think I found a way to cure your daughter,” Peter blurts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richard stares at Peter for several seconds, not sure if he heard him right.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come again?” Peter smiles brightly, eager to cheer up his teacher’s somber mood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think I found a way to cure your daughter,” he repeats, sliding his backpack off his shoulder and reaching into one of the smaller pockets. He pulls out a small vial filled with red liquid, marked with his name on a piece of tape, handing it over to his teacher. Richard takes it, staring at it for a minute before looking back at Peter in confusion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A sample of my blood,” Peter says, without thinking, and he instantly tenses at the flabbergasted expression on Mr. Walker’s face; it hadn’t really occurred to him until now that there was no good way to give his teacher the potential key to a cure without giving up his biggest secret…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know that sounds weird,” he attempts. “But...I really think it’ll help. Just...trust me.” Mr. Walker is still staring at him, and it takes several beats of silence for him to finally answer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look, Pete, I appreciate the thought, but they’ve already tried various blood samples and transfusions. I don’t see how this is any different.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s different,” Peter tries to assure. “It’s...special. I promise.” Mr. Walker stares at his student, raising an eyebrow in pure doubt. Peter stares back for a minute, but eventually, he sighs. He’s going to have to explain himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m Spider-Man,” he blurts out, and he watches as his teacher’s face goes from confusion, to shock, to disbelief. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As fascinating as that would be, I can’t say I’m inclined to believe you…” Mr. Walker says, a small part of him almost hurt by what Peter’s saying. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Is he mocking me? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>As much as Peter was hoping to keep this low-key, he realizes almost immediately that Mr. Walker, unsurprisingly, is going to need proof. He sighs, bouncing on his feet as he tries to come up with any sort of evidence when an idea suddenly occurs to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, remember that scar you pointed out on my palm last year? The one I told you I got when I tripped and broke that plate? The one I’ve had since I was seven?” Richard stares at him, confused, but eventually nods.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course I do. It’s kind of hard to miss.” Without preamble, Peter puts his palms out for Richard to see, and, raising an eyebrow briefly, Richard looks down at his students’ hands, only to see that his right palm is now completely clear of the previously prominent scar. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richard stares at the kid’s hands wide-eyed. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What the actual--? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“And look, it’s not make-up or anything,” Peter confirms, rubbing his hands together violently before showing them off again, his palm still free of the scar. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How...how did you--?” Richard finally tries to ask, but between his amazement and utter confusion, he can only drift off in awe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Spider-Man,” Peter says simply, shrugging his shoulders a little bit. “Self-healing apparently comes with the gig.” He then shifts his feet awkwardly, waiting expectantly for his teacher’s reaction, but when no response comes, his awkwardness shifts to slight worry; they’d never had trouble conversing before, and even with something as big as this, Peter feels like Richard should be reciprocating more. Trying to cover the tension, he jumps back in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look, I have this...thing, where I can heal after I get hurt. And I did a bunch of experiments and stuff, and every time, whatever wounds or whatever...they got better. And I thought...I guess I just thought that...maybe you could find a way...to use that. To help Brianna.”  He looks up at his teacher then, wide-eyed, panic in his eyes. “But you </span>
  <em>
    <span>can’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>tell anyone about this. You’re only the second person that I’ve told. Not even my aunt knows.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richard is still staring at Peter in amazement, trying to process all of the information that was just thrown at him, but when he realizes the kid is staring at him in panicked concern, he tries to recover quickly to respond.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I won’t tell anyone,” he eventually says. “Your secret is safe with me. I promise.” Peter’s entire body sags in relief, and his concern and awkwardness quickly turns back into excitement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So do you think it could work?” he asks, hopefully. Richard stares at him for a minute, then at the vial, then back at Peter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” he starts, not wanting to ruin the teen’s excitement, but not overly optimistic. “I’d have to run some tests, of course, but I must admit, I’m not sure if this will make a difference.” Peter’s face falls slightly, but he schools his expression quickly, giving his teacher a sad smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well...it’s worth a shot, right?” he asks, and Richard nods slightly. Peter smiles again, but then he frowns, shuffling his feet--his usual nervous tick--before glancing back up at Mr. Walker again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry if it’s not enough. I just...I wanted to help, somehow.” Richard stares at Peter for a minute, but eventually, a small smile makes its way onto his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Peter,” he says, lightly. “I really appreciate this.” Peter smiles back. After several seconds of awkward silence, Peter finally remembers that his best friend is still in the cafeteria. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I should, uh...I should probably...let you do...whatever it is you need to do.” Richard smiles again, giving Peter an affirming gaze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll try to keep you updated on all of this, okay?” Peter nods eagerly, hope glistening in his eyes, and while Richard wants to share in his optimism, he can’t help the part of him that continues to have his doubts. As Peter eventually shuffles back out the door with a small wave, Richard finally lets his facade fall, his eyebrows scrunching in thought as he stares at the vial in his hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter clearly cares a lot--more than Richard could have ever anticipated--and while his brain is telling him just how little hope there is for his daughter, he can’t help but feel the tug of idealism that Peter seems to hold. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe this won’t work, and after so many failed attempts, he swore to himself that he would never let himself be swept up in hope again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But maybe just this last time...</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I hope that chapter was fun-loving with just the right amount of emotional for you! Things are starting to pick up, and I'm looking forward to diving into the main plot with all of you. </p><p>Also, you have a couple hours left to vote for me in the Irondad Creator Awards, so if you like what I do, please consider voting for me at <a href="https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLSe7NyDbCvfsD0F2Ra2WdBJLSN5IRP5ToqwWTWdC5dDqQqKDYw/viewfor">this link.</a> </p><p>As always, please check out my other works, and feel free to come chat it up with me on <a href="https://kitkatwinchester.tumblr.com/">Tumblr!</a></p><p>See you all next week! :D &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Alright everyone.</p><p>I am SO SORRY for such a late update! I know I'm a week behind, but the writer's block was ROUGH, and I couldn't find the inspiration to finish this chapter until now, so here we are. </p><p>That said, though, an update has finally come, and it's the last of the set-up before we start getting into all of the lovely Tony and Peter content. Thank you for bearing with me through all of these flashback, non-Tony and Peter centric chapters. </p><p>This chapter definitely ties everything together, and it sets up the plot to take place in the story's present time, so, again, make sure you pay attention to the time stamp! After this chapter, everything will happen chronologically. </p><p>Thank you for all of you who are keeping up with this story!! I hope you enjoy this update!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>February 2017</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He hadn’t thought it was possible. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The whole situation had been...hard to believe, to say the least. He talks about theorizing for a living, and Spider-Man’s secret identity being one of </span>
  <em>
    <span>his </span>
  </em>
  <span>students--and being Peter Parker, of all people--was a theory that definitely wasn’t on his list.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And yet, here he is, the solution to all of his problems gripped tightly in the palm of his hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite the several months it had taken to formulate his daughter’s cure, after years of failure, it had almost felt too simple. A part of him still worries that he missed something...that it won’t do what he needs it to do. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But all of the tests had been successful. Every organism had regenerated--albeit, some longer than others. The only person left to test it on was his daughter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He feels a twinge in his heart at the thought of Brianna, lying in her hospital bed, and his stomach drops in concern. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What if it fails? What if it doesn’t work? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He shakes his head at himself, face setting in determination as he finally steps out of his car and towards the hospital doors. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s going to work. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t know what he’s going to do if it doesn’t. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>~ </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shockingly, the staff doesn’t believe him when he claims to have found the cure for hyperleukocyte cellulysis. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even more so, they aren’t too pleased with him wanting to hook the liquid up to her IV. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mr. Walker,” the nurse says, a small frown on his face. “While we appreciate your research towards this disease, we can’t give your daughter a medication that hasn’t been approved.” Richard opens his mouth to protest, but the nurse doesn’t give him a chance. “I understand your concern for your daughter, and I know you’re doing what you think is best, but even with your education, there would be a lot of consequences--for everyone, including your daughter--if we gave out medication from any old civilian.” The nurse frowns at him again, sympathetic. “I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He figured this would happen, but it doesn’t make the lack of support any less frustrating; though he certainly has no intention of giving up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It takes several days before he’s able to take matters into his own hands. Every time a nurse comes in to administer Brianna’s medication, he watches their movements carefully to make sure he doesn’t mess anything up. Eventually, he decides that he’s confident enough to try it on his own. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the nurse comes in for the night shift, asking him if she can get him anything, he asks her if he can go on a bit of a walk, to “clear his head”. She obliges, agreeing to stay with his daughter until he returns. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The hospital halls are almost pitch black, what little light there is coming from the small fluorescents tucked above each hospital room door. He looks at every door as he passes, desperately searching for the supply room that Amber had told him about in one of her many rants about her hospital days. According to her small slip-up, those rooms hold extra IV bags. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, he finds the room he’s looking for, and he’s disappointed to realize that the door requires some sort of code. He hadn’t planned for that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To his happy surprise, however, just as he’s debating how to find a way in, the door opens, and a nurse steps out, almost running into him in the process. The nurse mumbles a small apology, but she’s clearly distracted, and it gives Richard the time he needs to slide to the side and lightly place his foot in the door, stopping it from closing. The nurse passes him by, none the wiser, and Richard sighs a little in relief before silently slipping into the supply room to get what he needs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he finally makes it back to Brianna’s room, IV bag tucked safely in his coat, he smiles at the nurse gratefully, and she returns the smile, reminding him that she has to do her other rounds, but is always available if they need her. He watches her go, waiting until the door shuts completely before crossing back to it, opening it slightly to peek down the hallway and make sure no one else is around.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eventually satisfied, he turns back to his daughter, stopping halfway back to her hospital bed and glancing at her sleeping figure. Ideally, he’d wanted to discuss this with her, but a part of him was worried. Not that she wouldn’t trust him and his treatment--she always had--but that she wouldn’t want him to try it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And the thought of her giving up terrifies him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can’t lose her now. Not when they’re this close.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He crosses to the side of her bed completely, carefully unhooking the medicine bag from her IV and replacing it with the one that he’d taken from the supply room. He mentally walks himself through the steps as he does them, puncturing the bag and connecting the tubing to the needle in her arm. When he eventually clamps the tube off, he sits back down, sighing slightly out of exertion; he’s certainly glad he never became a nurse. He’s much more comfortable with the theoretical than the actual practice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As the medication slowly trickles down the tube, he stares at Brianna’s face. Even though he knows any sort of reaction wouldn’t be immediate, some illogical part of his brain hopes that she’ll magically hop out of bed, completely cured. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But, much like he had expected, nothing changes, and he’s left to stare at her in anticipation, surrounded by the soft sounds of his daughter’s shallow breaths, mixed with the harsh whistling of the oxygen from her nasal cannula. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And yet, he waits. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>~ </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alarms are ringing, and Richard bolts up instinctively, glancing around in confusion. When he finally orients himself, realizing he’s still in the hospital, he looks at the source of the sound to see Brianna’s monitoring blinking red at him as her heart rate drops. Panicked, he goes to call for a nurse, but just as he does, several of them swarm into the room and surround Brianna’s bed. There’s a lot of commotion as everyone starts shouting, and Richard desperately tries to step forward to see what’s going on and help in any way he can. He doesn’t make it far, though, before a nurse comes over to him and holds out a hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mr. Walker, I’m gonna have to ask you to step out,” she says calmly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But what’s going on? What happened? She was fine a few hours ago.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We don’t know,” the nurse admits, a small frown on her face. “But we’re going to do everything we can to save her. But we can’t do our job when there are other distractions involved.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richard stares at her, then back at the slew of nurses surrounding her bed. No matter how worried he is, he can’t risk her safety. Slowly, he nods, and the nurse escorts him out to the hallway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Richard stands there, he almost sinks to the ground, his worry and concern overshadowing any qualms he has about being on a hospital floor. Luckily, the nurse seems to pick up on that, offering him the chair from the alcove, and he sinks into it gratefully. She gives him a quick once-over before dipping back into Brianna’s room, giving Richard time--too much time--to mull over his own thoughts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>What could’ve gone wrong? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s in a coma.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her heart had stopped, and they’d managed to save her, but now she’s in a coma. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’d be fine. Everything had been fine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then Richard had taken matters into his own hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His cure was supposed to work. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He leaves the hospital with his mental state in shambles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t want to leave Brianna. Not in her current state.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he couldn’t just sit there knowing that he somehow could have contributed to it without knowing how. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he finally arrives back at his lab, he turns it over in his mind, his thoughts running wild as he tries to make sense of it all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He has no idea what went wrong. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d done everything right. He’d tested it all five times over and then another three times, just to be sure. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>How could he have hurt her? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unlocking the door to the warehouse, he makes his way inside, his feet dragging as he traverses towards his makeshift lab, flicking on the overheads and bathing the room in light. He shields his eyes, exhaustion and emotion making him even more sensitive than usual. As he finally nears his desk, tools and containers still scattered across it, a newfound anger overtakes him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s a </span>
  <em>
    <span>scientist.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He has more experience than half of the scientists he’s met, and yet, he’d almost gotten his daughter killed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s lucky she’s still alive. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>How could he have messed this up? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Angrily, he grasps the nearest tool and chucks it at the wall. The resounding </span>
  <em>
    <span>clank </span>
  </em>
  <span>does little to satisfy him, and he grabs another, and another, chucking tool after tool, vial after vial, tray after tray, against the wall, creating a cacophony of bangs, clashes, and thunks in the process. It isn’t until he picks up a small vial that he hesitates, realizing the shape is unfamiliar to him. He brings it closer, studying it, turning it over in his hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And that’s when he sees it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A name, written ever-so-carefully on a faded piece of tape, stuck to the bottom of the vial. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Peter Parker</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>And then he remembers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was </span>
  <em>
    <span>him. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>This kid </span>
  </em>
  <span>was the one who caused his daughter’s current state. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He himself hadn’t made any errors. How could he have? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d calculated for everything...except this vial. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Peter Parker </span>
  </em>
  <span>is the reason his daughter might never wake up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And he’s going to make him pay for that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is your doing, Peter Parker,” he whispers to the open air. “And I’ll make sure you fix it, if it’s the last thing I do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wraps his hand around the vial, crossing back over to his desk, a newfound determination building from his budding anger. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He rifles through the drawers, knowing that he’d kept it, and when he finally finds the paper he’s looking for, he smiles, the grin manic with desperation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He rips a piece of paper from his stack, pen flying across it at lightning speed, his emotions driving his every move. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he tucks the paper into an envelope, he wills himself to slow down, carefully etching the address of the one person he knows can help him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sealing the envelope, he glances over at the picture that’s been on his desk since the day he got it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The picture of him, his daughter, and the one and only Tony Stark.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richard knows where Peter is. He could just as easily go to him himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Richard also knows that he’s not ready to do what needs to be done to get to the bottom of this. He’s not ready to turn on his former student, no matter what he’s done.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tony Stark can take the steps that he can’t. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d helped him before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe he’ll help him again.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>And the prologue comes around again, as all the pieces fall into place. ;) </p><p>Thank you again for reading!! Comments and kudos are always appreciated!! </p><p>I know the set-up was a lot, but I hope it was still enthralling enough to keep you invested in the story. I promise--the fluff is coming. :) </p><p>If you like this story and my writing, feel free to check out my other works. Otherwise, if you just wanna chat, you can come say hi on <a href="https://kitkatwinchester.tumblr.com/">Tumblr!</a></p><p>Thank you for reading and bearing with me! Chapter 9 is already written, so theoretically, I should have no problems posting next week Wednesday! </p><p>See you all next week! :D &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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